^f-UNIVERJ^ 


St 


I 


1 


§1  ir-^^ 


,#UBRARY^      <5»EUNIVER%.  ^vlO 


i  m 


mi  { 


I 


MDDADV/W 


.it.flDDADV/i. 


*UP.1!til\/rDC/v 


r*.  .tCIIDDADV/k.  ..\C.IIDDADV/1^  «UM1WIVFPC/X 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2013 


http://archive.org/details/thingcalledlovecOOIani 


THE  LITTLE  GOLDEH  BOOKS 

Based  on  features  in 

The  Golden  Boo\  Magazine 
Edited  by  Henry  Wysham  Lanier 

I.    THE  THING  CALLED  LOVE 
In  Preparation 
THE  SMILING  PHILOSOPHER 
it's  HUMAN  NATURE 
THE  TIE  THAT  BINDS 
ETC. 


THE  THING  CALLED  LOVE 


The 

THING  CALLED 
LOVE 

Culled  from  the  World  Library  by 
Henry  Wysham  Lanier 

THE  LITTLE  GOLDEH  BOOKS 


DOUBLEDAY,  DOR  AN  £?  COMPANY,  INC. 

GARDEN  CITT,  KEW  YORK  1928 


Copyright,  1928,  by  Henry  Wysham 
Lanier.  Copyright,  1925,  1926,  1927, 
by  The  Review  of  Reviews  Corporation 
{The  Golden  Boo}{  Magazine).  All 
rights  reserved.  Printed  in  the  United 
States  at  The  Country  Life  Press, 
Garden  City,  7s(.  T.       First  Edition 


(■'IN 

To 
Aphrodite 
Who  Conquers,  Smiling 


534760 

LZBRAR? 


PREFACE 


In  spite  of  pathetic  efforts,  man  has  never  been 
able  to  exclude  woman  from  dominance  of  his 
thoughts,  his  life,  his  dreams,  his  religions.  For 
the  divine  gadfly  called  love  ever  stings  him  to 
a  restless  striving  after  what  he  fondly  hopes 
may  prove  completion. 

So  solemn  philosophers  and  Rabelaisian 
laughers  alike  have  been  compelled  to  note  the 
strange  and  manifold  symptoms,  causes  and 
effects  of  this  inescapable  infection;  but,  since 
"one  can  only  love  with  what  one  has,"  analysis 
and  first-hand  testimony  serve  merely  to  describe 
a  few  costumes  in  which  Eros  masquerades. 

Yet  because  great  minds  have  the  faculty  of 
seizing  the  essential  and  expressing  it  memo' 
rably,  it  may  be  that  one  may  get  from  these 
flashes  of  thought  and  observation  some  glimpses 
of  the  Mystery  itself. 

H.  W.  L. 


CONTENTS 


1. 

The  Bittersweet 

Page 

3 

TT 
11. 

1  ne  1  ning  Oallea  Love 

11 

TTT 
111. 

Wnat  Love  Will  Do 

31 

IV. 

How  Men  Make  Love  in  Novels 

55 

V. 

Flirting — with  the  Dictionary- 

71 

VL 

Women  in  Love 

95 

VII. 

Some  Love  Letters 

109 

VIII. 

Men  in  Love  through  the  Ages 

125 

IX. 

A  Little  Course  in  Love-making 

i41 

X. 

Man  Proposes 

159 

THE  BITTER-SWEET 


I 


THE  BITTER'SWEET 


Now  Love  masters  my  limbs  and  shakes  me, 
fatal  creature,  bitter-sweet. 


Phaedra — What  is  it  that  one  feels  when 
they  say  "one  loves"? 

Nurse — Something  very  pleasant,  child,  and 
painful,  too. 


Alas,  the  love  of  women!  it  is  known 

To  be  a  lovely  and  a  fearful  thing. 

«  Byron 

I  love  but  her  in  all  the  world,  and  to  exist  a 
whole  day  without  her  seems  to  me  a  destiny 
more  frightful  than  death. 


Sappho 


Euripides 


Alfred  de  Musset 


Pains  of  love  be  sweeter  far 
Than  all  other  pleasures  are. 


Dryden 


A  mighty  pain  to  love  it  is, 
And  'tis  a  pain  that  pain  to  miss; 


THE  TH1HG  CALLED  LOVE 


But  of  all  pains,  the  greatest  pain 
It  is  to  love,  but  love  in  vain. 

Cowley  (after  Anacreon) 

Love  is  a  boy  by  poets  styTd 

Then  spare  the  rod  and  spoil  the  child. 

Butler 

To  love  is  to  prefer  a  certain  person  to  all  men 
and  to  all  women,  is  it  not?  ...  to  cease  to  live 
when  that  person  leaves  you,  to  begin  at  once  to 
live  again  as  soon  as  he  reappears. 

Halevy 

Celimene:  Dear  Phyllis,  tell  me,  what  you 
know  of  love? 
They  say  its  flame  devours  like  a  vulture, 
And  that  a  lover  suffers  cruel  pain. 

Phyllis:  They  tell  me  nothing  is  so  beautiful, 
That  not  to  love  is  to  renounce  the  day: 
What  must  we  think  it,  evil  or  most  good? 

Both  Together:  Let  us  love — the  only  way 
To  know  what  we  should  really  think. 

Moliere 

O  love!  O  fire!  once  he  drew 

With  one  long  kiss  my  whole  soul  through 

My  lips,  as  sunlight  drinketh  dew. 

Tennyson 

Eros,  Eros,  thou  that  distillest  desire  from 
thine  eyes  implanting  desire  in  the  heart,  when' 
ever  thou  assailest  a  mortal,  never,  O  never, 

*  4  * 


THE  BITTER-SWEET 

come  upon  me  with  wild  irresistible  force.  Nor 
flame  nor  lightning  burns  as  fierce  as  the  Cyprian 
darts  of  Eros. 

Euripides 

Tell  me  where  is  fancy  bred, 
Or  in  the  heart,  or  in  the  head, 
How  begot,  how  nourished  ? 
Reply,  reply. 

It  is  engendered  in  the  eyes, 
With  gazing  fed;  or  fancy  dies 
In  the  cradle  where  it  lies 

Let  us  all  ring  fancy's  \nell: 
Til  begin  it — Ding,  dong,  bell. 

Shakespeare 

If  a  man  with  a  beard  found  delight  in  building 
baby'houses,  in  yoking  mice  to  a  toy-cart,  in 
playing  at  odd  and  even,  in  riding  on  a  long  stick, 
one  would  say  that  madness  possessed  him.  But 
if  right  reason  demonstrates  that  love  is  some- 
thing still  more  childish  and  that  it  makes  no 
difference,  whether  you  are  busy  raising  your 
toyhouses  in  the  sand,  as  you  did  when  three 
years  old,  or  whether  you  maunder  troubled 
with  love,  I  demand  of  you,  Will  you  do  as 
Polemo  did,  when  he  became  a  changed  man? 
Will  you  lay  aside  the  livery  of  your  mental 
malady,  the  bandages,  cushions,  neck-wrappers; 
as  'tis  said  that  he,  after  his  drinking  bout, 

*  5  * 


THE  THING  CALLED  LOVE 

stealthily  plucked  the  chaplets  from  his  neck, 
as  soon  as  he  heard  the  reproving  voice  of  his 
fasting  tutor?  You  offer  fruit  to  a  sulky  child:  he 
refuses  it;  you  say  "Take  it,  darling":  he  says 
he  will  not:  if  you  do  not  offer  it,  he  longs  for  it: 
how  differs  from  the  child  the  lover,  when  the 
door  is  shut  in  his  face,  and  he  deliberates,  shall 
he  go  or  not,  and  yet  is  sure  to  return,  even  if 
not  sent  for,  and  hates  the  doors,  and  yet  cannot 
tear  himself  from  them?  "What,  shall  I  not  go, 
now  that  she  makes  the  advances?  Or  rather, 
shall  I  not  resolve  to  put  an  end  to  my  pains? 
She  has  turned  me  out  of  the  house:  now  she 
calls  me  back :  shall  I  return?  No,  not  if  she  en' 
treats  me."  Now  hear  what  says  the  slave,  a 
deal  wiser  than  his  master:  "Sir,  things  without 
method  and  sense  cannot  be  dealt  with  on  any 
system  or  method.  Such  is  the  evil  nature  of 
love;  it  means  war,  then  peace :  it  is  as  changeable 
as  the  weather,  it  floats  as  if  by  blind  chance; 
and  if  any  one  tries  to  make  it  regular  in  his  own 
case,  he  will  manage  about  as  well  as  if  he  were 
to  endeavour  to  be  mad  on  a  regular  system  and 
method." 

Horace 

Love  is  a  kind  of  warre;  Hence  those  who  feare, 
No  cowards  must  his  royall  Ensignes  beare. 

Herric\ 

$  6  $ 


THE  BITTER-SWEET 

This  passion  hath  his  floods  in  the  very  times 
of  weakness,  which  are,  great  prosperity  and 
great  adversity,  though  this  latter  hath  been  less 
observed;  both  which  times  kindle  love,  and 
make  it  more  fervent,  and  therefore  show  it  to 
be  the  child  of  folly.  They  do  best  who,  if  they 
cannot  but  admit  love,  yet  make  it  keep  quarter, 
and  sever  it  wholly  from  their  serious  affairs 
and  actions  of  life;  for  if  it  check  once  with 
business,  it  troubleth  men's  fortunes,  and 
maketh  men  that  they  can  nowise  be  true  to 
their  own  ends.  I  know  not  how,  but  martial 
men  are  given  to  love:  I  think  it  is  but  as  they 
are  given  to  wine,  for  perils  commonly  ask  to  be 
paid  in  pleasures.  .  .  .  Nuptial  love  maketh  man' 
kind,  friendly  love  perfecteth  it,  but  wanton 
love  corrupteth  and  embaseth  it. 

Bacon 

Mr.  Spectator, — Here  is  a  gentlewoman 
lodges  in  the  same  house  with  me,  that  I  never 
did  any  injury  to  in  my  whole  life;  and  she  is 
always  railing  at  me  to  those  she  knows  will  tell 
me  of  it.  Do  not  you  think  she  is  in  love  with 
me?  or  would  you  have  me  break  my  mind  yet, 
or  not? 

Your  servant, 

T.  B. 

Addison 


*  7  * 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 


I  bring  ye  love,  Quest.  What  will  love  do? 

Ans.  Like,  and  dislike  ye: 
I  bring  ye  love:  Quest.  What  will  love  do? 

Ans.  Stroake  ye  to  strike  ye. 
I  bring  ye  love:  Quest.  What  will  love  do? 

Ans.  Love  will  be-foole  ye : 
I  bring  ye  love:  Quest.  What  will  love  do? 

Ans.  Heate  ye  to  coole  ye: 
I  bring  ye  love:  Quest.  What  will  love  do? 

Ans.  Love  gifts  will  send  ye: 
I  bring  ye  love :  Quest.  What  will  love  do? 

Ans.  Stock  ye  to  spend  ye : 
I  bring  ye  love:  Quest.  What  will  love  do? 

Ans.  Love  will  fulfill  ye: 
I  bring  ye  love:  Quest.  What  will  love  do? 

Ans.  Kisse  ye,  to  kill  ye. 

llerric\ 


*■  8  * 


THE  THING  CALLED  LOVE 


THE  THING   CALLED  LOVE 


This  Cyprian, 

She  is  a  thousand  changing  things, 

She  brings  more  pain  than  any  god,  she  brings 

More  joy.  I  cannot  judge  her.  May  it  be 

An  hour  of  mercy  when  she  loo\s  on  me. 

From  Aeolus  ^a  lost  play).  Euripides 

THAT  KIND   OF  GIRL 

She  had  been  a  girl  of  that  kind  which  mothers 
praise  as  not  forward,  by  way  of  contrast  when 
disparaging  those  nobler  ones  with  whom  loving 
is  an  end  and  not  a  means. 

Thomas  Hardy 

MANY   WITS   HAVE   HAMMERED  OUT 
DESIGNS 

There  is  no  argument  of  more  antiquity  and 
elegancy  than  in  the  matter  of  Love;  for  it  seems 
to  be  as  old  as  the  world,  and  to  bear  date  from 
the  first  time  that  man  and  woman  was:  there' 
*  i.i  * 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

fore  in  this,  as  in  the  finest  metal,  the  freshest 
wits  have  in  all  ages  shown  their  best  work' 
manship. 

Robert  Wilmot 

"A  gentleman  is  not  always  amorous  but  he  is 
always  grateful." 

Don  Quixote 

LOVE-IN-IDLENESS 

Many  fancy  they  are  in  love,  when  in  truth 
they  are  only  idle.  Having  little  to  divert  atten* 
tion  or  diversify  thought  they  find  themselves 
uneasy  apart,  and  conclude  they  will  be  happy 
together. 

Dr.  Samuel  Johnson 

By  my  troth,  I  wonder  what  thou  and  I  did  till 
we  loved  ! 

Donne 

NEVER   AGAIN  ! 

Who  loves  a  first  time  is  a  god, 
Though  he  should  be  forsaken. 
Who  hapless  loves  a  second  time, 
Must  for  a  fool  be  taken. 

And  such  a  fool  who  loves  without 
Response  of  love  am  I. 
Sun,  moon  and  stars  they  laugh  at  me, 
And  I  laugh  too — and  die ! 

Heine  (Blacfy 

^  12  ^ 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 


THE  STIGMATA 

Now  can  you  recognize  any  of  these  marks  as 
belonging  to  you?  A  sweetheart  demands  of  you 
five  talents,  insults  you,  shuts  the  door  in  your 
face,  throws  cold  water  over  you;  then  calls  you 
back.  Now  loose  your  neck  from  the  shameful 
yoke;  come  say,  "I  am  free,  yes,  free."  You  can' 
not;  for  your  soul  is  troubled  by  no  gentle 
master,  and  sharp  are  the  spurs  which  prick 
your  weary  spirit,  and  on  you  are  driven,  though 
you  would  fain  refuse. 

Horace  (Lonsdale  and  Lee) 

WHAT   LOVE   DOES   TO  THE 
HUMAN  HEART 

A  dull,  boring  fellow,  who  was  accustomed, 
as  other  slowwitted  seekers  after  truth  were 
also,  to  propound  questions  to  William  Godwin, 
and  to  accept  his  answers,  when  they  could  be 
extracted,  as  oracles,  inquired  one  day  in  Shelley's 
presence,  with  all  solemnity,  "Pray,  William 
Godwin,  what  is  your  opinion  of  love?"  The 
oracle  was  silent.  After  a  while,  he  who  came 
to  consult,  repeated  his  question,  "Pray,  William 
Godwin,  what  is  your  opinion  of  love?"  The 
oracle  was  still  silent,  but  Shelley  answered  for 
him: 

"My  opinion  of  love  is,  that  it  acts  upon  the 


THE  TH1HG  CALLED  LOVE 

human  heart  precisely  as  a  nutmeg-grater  acts 
upon  a  nutmeg.1' 

The  grave  inquirer  heard  the  jesting  answer 
with  mute  contempt;  and  presently  repeated  his 
question  a  third  time.  "Pray,  William  Godwin, 
what  is  your  opinion  of  love?" 

"My  opinion  entirely  agrees  with  that  of  Mr. 
Shelley." 

Jefferson  Hogg 

SIMILES 

Thy  breast  is  heaped  like  mountain  snows, 
Thy  cheek  is  like  the  blushing  rose, 
Thine  eyes  as  black  as  ripened  sloes, 
Like  diamonds  do  they  glitter. 

I  do  not  flatter  like  a  fool. 
The  diamond  is  a  cutting  tool, 
The  rose  is  thorny,  snow  is  cool, 
And  sloes  are  very  bitter! 

Anonymous 

THE   HAPPINESS   OF  DYING 
FOR  ZULEIKA 

From  the  towing-path — no  more  din  there 
now,  but  great  single  cries  of  "Zuleika !" — leapt 
figures  innumerable  through  rain  to  river.The 
arrested  boats  of  the  other  crews  drifted  zigzag 
hither  and  thither.  The  dropped  oars  rocked  and 

*  14  * 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

clashed,  sank  and  rebounded,  as  the  men  plunged 
across  them  into  the  swirling  stream. 

And  over  all  this  confusion  and  concussion  of 
men  and  man-made  things  crashed  the  vaster 
discords  of  the  heavens;  and  the  waters  of  the 
heavens  fell  ever  denser  and  denser,  as  though 
to  the  aid  of  waters  that  could  not  in  themselves 
envelop  so  many  hundreds  of  struggling  human 
forms. 

All  along  the  soaked  towing-path  lay  strewn 
the  horns,  the  rattles,  the  motor-hooters,  that 
the  youths  had  flung  aside  before  they  leapt. 
Here  and  there  among  these  relics  stood  daz^d 
elder  men,  staring  through  the  storm.  There  was 
one  of  them — a  graybeard — who  stripped  off  his 
blazer,  plunged,  grabbed  at  some  live  man,  grap- 
pled him,  was  dragged  under.  He  came  up  again 
further  along  stream,  swam  choking  to  the  bank, 
clung  to  the  grasses.  He  whimpered  as  he  sought 
foothold  in  the  slime.  It  was  ill  to  be  down  in 
that  abominable  sink  of  death. 

Abominable,  yes,  to  them  who  discerned 
there  death  only;  but  sacramental  and  sweet 
enough  to  the  men  who  were  dying  there  for 
love.  Any  face  that  rose  was  smiling. 

Max  Beerbohm 

The  stage  is  more  beholden  to  love,  than  the 
life  of  man.  For  as  to  the  stage,  love  is  ever  a  matter 
*  15  # 


THE  TH1HG  CALLED  LOVE 

of  comedies,  and  now  and  then  of  tragedies;  but  in 
life  it  doth  much  mischief,  sometimes  li\e  a  siren, 
sometimes  li\e  a  fury. 

Sir  Francis  Bacon 

PURE   REASON'S  FRUITLESS 
ARGUMENTS 

One  lover  jeers  at  others  and  advises  them  to 
propitiate  Venus,  since  they  are  troubled  by  a 
disgraceful  passion,  and  often,  poor  wretch, 
gives  no  thought  to  his  own  ills,  greatest  of  all. 
The  black  is  a  brune,  the  cat-eyed  is  a  miniature 
Pallas,  the  stringy  and  widened  a  gazelle;  the 
dumpy  and  dwarfish  is  one  of  the  graces,  from 
top  to  toe  all  grace;  the  big  and  overgrown  is 
awe'inspiring  and  full  of  dignity.  She  is  tongue' 
tied,  cannot  speak,  then  she  has  a  lisp;  the  dumb 
is  bashful;  then  the  fire'spit,  the  teasing,  the 
gossiping,  turns  to  a  shining  lamp.  One  becomes 
a  slim  darling  then  when  she  cannot  live  from 
want  of  flesh;  and  she  is  only  spare,  who  is  half 
dead  with  cough. — The  pug-nosed  is  a  she 
Silenus  and  a  satyress;  the  thick-lipped  a  very 
kiss.  It  were  tedious  to  attempt  to  report  other 
things  of  the  kind.  Let  her,  however,  be  of  ever 
so  great  dignity  of  appearance;  such  that  the 
power  of  Venus  goes  forth  from  all  her  limbs; 
yet  there  are  others  too;  yet  have  we  lived 
without  her  before;  yet  does  she  do,  and  we 
*  16  « 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

know  that  she  does,  in  all  things  the  same  as  the 
ugly  woman;  and  fumigates  herself,  poor  wretch, 
with  nauseous  perfumes,  her  very  maids  running 
from  her  and  giggling  behind  her  back.  But  the 
lover,  when  shut  out,  often  in  tears  covers  the 
threshold  with  flowers  and  wreaths,  and  anoints 
the  haughty  doorposts  with  oil  of  marjoram,  and 
imprints  kisses,  poor  wretch,  on  the  doors. 

Lucretius 

The  essence  of  love  is  kindness;  and  indeed  it 
may  be  best  defined  as  passionate  \indness:  \ind' 
ness,  so  to  spea\,  run  mad  and  become  importu- 
nate and  violent. 

Robert  Louis  Stevenson 

a  poet's  DEFINITION 

Thou  demandest  what  is  love?  It  is  that 
powerful  attraction  towards  all  that  we  con' 
ceive,  or  fear,  or  hope  beyond  ourselves,  when 
we  find  within  our  own  thoughts  the  chasm  of 
an  insufficient  void,  and  seek  to  awaken  in  all 
things  that  are,  a  community  with  what  we 
experience  within  ourselves.  If  we  reason,  we 
would  be  understood;  if  we  imagine,  we  would 
that  the  airy  children  of  our  brain  were  born 
anew  within  another's;  if  we  feel,  we  would 
that  another's  nerves  should  vibrate  to  our  own, 
that  the  beams  of  their  eyes  should  kindle  at 
once  and  mix  and  melt  into  our  own,  that  lips 

*  17  * 


THE  TH1HG  CALLED  LOVE 

of  motionless  ice  should  not  reply  to  lips  quiver' 
ing  and  burning  with  the  heart's  best  blood. 
This  is  Love.  This  is  the  bond  and  the  sanction 
which  connects  not  only  man  with  man,  but 
with  everything  which  exists. 

Shelley 

Mr.  Spectator  1  am  a  footman  in  a  great 

family,  and  am  in  love  with  the  house-maid.  We 
were  all  at  hot-coc^les  last  night  in  the  hall  these 
holy-days;  when  I  lay  down  and  was  blinded,  she 
pulled  off  her  shoe,  and  hit  me  with  the  heel  such 
a  rap,  as  almost  bro\e  my  head  to  pieces.  Pray, 
sir,  was  this  love  or  spite  ? 

(The  Spectator.)  Addison. 
THE   TRANSCENDENTAL  VIEW 

For  it  is  a  fire  that,  kindling  its  first  embers  in 
the  narrow  nook  of  a  private  bosom,  caught  from 
a  wandering  spark  out  of  another  private  heart, 
glows  and  enlarges  until  it  warms  and  beams 
upon  multitudes  of  men  and  women,  upon  the 
universal  heart  of  all,  and  so  lights  up  the  whole 
world  and  all  nature  with  its  generous  flames. 

Emerson 

MISS   BRIDGET   WAS   A  BORN 
PR  AGM  ATIST 

The  captain  owed  nothing  to  any  of  these  fop' 
makers  in  his  dress,  nor  was  his  person  much 
$  18  # 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

more  beholden  to  nature.  Both  his  dress  and 
person  were  such  as,  had  they  appeared  in  an 
assembly  or  a  drawing-room,  would  have  been 
the  contempt  and  ridicule  of  all  the  fine  ladies 
there.  The  former  of  these  was  indeed  neat,  but 
plain,  coarse,  ill-fancied,  and  out  of  fashion.  As 
for  the  latter,  we  have  expressly  described  it 
above.  So  far  was  the  skin  on  his  cheeks  from 
being  cherry-coloured,  that  you  could  not  discern 
what  the  natural  colour  of  his  cheeks  was,  they 
being  totally  overgrown  by  a  black  beard,  which 
ascended  to  his  eyes.  His  shape  and  limbs  were 
indeed  exactly  proportioned,  but  so  large  that 
they  denoted  the  strength  rather  of  a  ploughman 
than  any  other.  His  shoulders  were  broad  be- 
yond all  size,  and  the  calves  of  his  legs  larger 
than  those  of  a  common  chairman.  In  short,  his 
whole  person  wanted  all  that  elegance  and 
beauty  which  is  the  very  reverse  of  clumsy 
strength,  and  which  so  agreeably  sets  off  most 
of  our  fine  gentlemen;  being  partly  owing  to  the 
high  blood  of  their  ancestors,  viz;.,  blood  made 
of  rich  sauces  and  generous  wines,  and  partly  to 
an  early  town  education. 

Though  Miss  Bridget  was  a  woman  of  the 
greatest  delicacy  of  taste,  yet  such  were  the 
charms  of  the  captain's  conversation,  that  she 
totally  overlooked  the  defects  of  his  person. 
She  imagined,  and  perhaps  very  wisely,  that  she 

*  19  * 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

should  enjoy  more  agreeable  minutes  with  the 
captain  than  with  a  much  prettier  fellow;  and 
forewent  the  consideration  of  pleasing  her  eyes, 
in  order  to  procure  herself  much  more  solid 
satisfaction. 

Fielding 

A   CHARME,   OR   AN   ALLAY   FOR  LOVE 

If  so  be  a  Toad  be  laid 

In  a  Sheeps'skin  newly  flaid, 

And  that  ty'd  to  man,  'twill  sever 

Him  and  his  affections  ever. 

Robert  Herrick 
THE   ORIENT  SPEAKS 

Your  questioning  eyes  are  sad.  They  seek  to 
know  my  meaning  as  the  moon  would  fathom 
the  sea. 

I  have  bared  my  life  before  your  eyes  from 
end  to  end,  with  nothing  hidden  or  held  back. 
That  is  why  you  know  me  not. 

...  If  it  were  only  a  moment  of  pleasure  it 
would  flower  in  an  easy  smile,  and  you  could 
see  it  and  read  it  in  a  moment. 

If  it  were  merely  a  pain  it  would  melt  in  limpid 
tears,  reflecting  its  inmost  secret  without  a  word. 

But  it  is  love,  my  beloved. 

Its  pleasure  and  pain  are  boundless,  and  end' 
less  its  wants  and  wealth. 

$  20  $ 


THE  TH1HG  CALLED  LOVE 


It  is  as  near  to  you  as  your  life,  but  you  can 
never  wholly  know  it. 

Fuibindranath  Tagore 

THE  SURE   ROAD   TO   A  WOMAN'S 
HEART 

"I  have  to  say,  Winifred,  that  the  man  does 
not  live  and  never  has  lived,"  said  I,  with  sup- 
pressed vehemence,  "who  loved  a  woman  as  I 
love  you." 

"Oh,  sir!  oh,  Henry !"  returned  Winifred, 
trembling,  then  standing  still  and  whiter  than 
the  moon. 

"And  the  reason  why  no  man  has  ever  loved 
a  woman  as  I  love  you,  Winifred,  is  because  your 
match,  or  anything  like  your  match,  has  never 
trod  the  earth  before." 

"Oh,  Henry,  my  dear  Henry  1  you  must  not 
say  such  things  to  me,  your  poor  Winifred." 

Theodore  WattS'Dunton 

I  was  more  calm  after  my  declaration — love, 
\nown  to  the  person  by  whom  it  is  inspired,  be' 
comes  more  supportable. 

Jean  Jacques  Rousseau 
A  RUSSIAN  TEST 

A  fortnight  before  the  wedding-day — she  was 
only  sixteen  at  the  time — she  went  up  to  her 
betrothed,  her  arms  folded  and  her  fingers  drum' 

*  21  $ 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

ming  on  her  elbows — her  favourite  position — 
and  suddenly  gave  him  a  slap  on  his  rosy  cheek 
with  her  large  powerful  hand!  He  jumped  and 
merely  gaped;  it  must  be  said  he  was  head  over 
ears  in  love  with  her.  ...  He  asked:  "What's 
that  for?"  she  laughed  scornfully  and  walked  off. 
"I  was  there  in  the  room,"  Anna  related.  "I  saw 
it  all,  I  ran  after  her  and  said  to  her,  'Katia,  why 
did  you  do  that,  really?'  And  she  answered  me: 
If  he'd  been  a  real  man  he  would  have  punished 
me,  but  he's  no  more  pluck  than  a  drowned  hen/ 
And  then  he  asks,  'What's  that  for?'  If  he  loves 
me,  and  doesn't  bear  malice,  he  had  better  put 
up  with  it  and  not  ask,  'What's  that  for?  *  I  will 
never  be  anything  to  him — never,  never!" 

Turgeniev 

HOW   LONG  ? 

Have  you,  gentle  reader,  ever  loved  at  first 
sight?  When  you  fell  in  love  at  first  sight,  how 
long,  let  me  ask,  did  it  take  you  to  become  ready 
to  fling  every  other  consideration  to  the  winds 
except  that  of  obtaining  possession  of  the  loved 
one?  Or  rather,  how  long  would  it  have  taken 
you  if  you  had  had  no  father  or  mother,  nothing 
to  lose  in  the  way  of  money,  position,  friends, 
professional  advancement,  or  what  not,  and  if 
the  object  of  your  affections  was  as  free  from  all 
these  impedimenta  as  you  were  yourself? 

$  22  $ 


THE  THIKG  CALLED  LOVE 

If  you  were  a  young  John  Stuart  Mill,  per' 
haps  it  would  have  taken  you  some  time;  but 
suppose  your  nature  was  Quixotic,  impulsive, 
altruistic,  guileless;  suppose  you  were  a  hungry 
man  starving  for  something  to  love  and  lean 
upon,  for  one  whose  burdens  you  might  bear, 
and  who  might  help  you  to  bear  yours?  Suppose 
you  were  down  on  your  luck,  still  stunned  by  a 
horrible  shock,  and  this  bright  vista  of  a  happy 
future  floated  suddenly  before  you,  how  long 
under  these  circumstances  do  you  think  you 
would  reflect  before  you  would  decide  on  em' 
bracing  what  chance  had  thrown  in  your  way? 

Samuel  Butler 
WHAT   THE   WARRIOR  FEARED 

J^pw,  as  I  said  before,  I  was  never  a  ma\er  of 
phrases 

I  can  march  up  to  a  fortress,  and  summon  the 

place  to  surrender, 
But  march  up  to  a  woman  with  such  a  proposal, 

I  dare  not. 

Ym  not  afraid  of  bullets,  nor  shot  from  the  mouth 
of  a  cannon, 

But  of  a  thundering  ">£o  V  point'blan\  from  the 

mouth  of  a  woman, 
That  I  confess  Tm  afraid  of,  nor  am  I  ashamed  to 

confess  it  I 

The  Courtship  of  Miles  Standish.  Longfellow 

%  23  # 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 


love's  flight  upward 

The  cab  stopped  on  Rue  Jacob  in  front  of  a 
students"  lodging'house.  Four  flights  of  stairs 
to  ascend;  they  were  long  and  steep.  "Shall  I 
carry  you?"  he  said  with  a  laugh,  but  in  an 
undertone,  because  of  the  sleeping  house.  She 
looked  him  over  with  a  slow,  contemptuous,  yet 
tender  glance — the  glance  of  experience,  which 
gauged  his  strength  and  said  plainly,  "Poor  little 
fellow!" 

Thereupon,  with  a  fine  outburst  of  energy, 
characteristic  of  his  age  and  his  southern  blood, 
he  seised  her  and  carried  her  like  a  child, — for 
he  was  a  sturdy,  strapping  youth  for  all  his  fair 
girlish  skin, — and  he  went  up  the  first  flight  at 
a  breath,  exulting  in  the  weight  suspended  about 
his  neck  by  two  lovely,  cool  bare  arms. 

The  second  flight  was  longer,  less  pleasant. 
The  woman  hung  more  heavily  as  they  ascended. 
Her  iron  pendants,  which  at  first  caressed  him 
with  a  pleasant  tickling  sensation,  sank  slowly 
and  painfully  into  his  flesh. 

At  the  third  flight  he  panted  like  a  piano' 
mover;  his  breath  almost  failed  him,  while  she 
murmured  ecstatically,  "Oh!  m'ami,  how  nice 
this  is!  how  comfortable  I  am!"  And  the  last 
stairs,  which  he  climbed  one  by  one,  seemed  to 
him  to  belong  to  a  giant  staircase,  whose  walls 
*  24  & 


THE  THIKG  CALLED  LOVE 

and  rails  and  narrow  windows  twisted  round 
and  round  in  an  interminable  spiral.  It  was  no 
longer  a  woman  he  was  carrying,  but  something 
heavy,  ghastly,  which  suffocated  him,  and  which 
he  was  momentarily  tempted  to  drop,  to  throw 
down  angrily  at  the  risk  of  crushing  her  brutally. 

When  they  reached  the  narrow  landing, 
"Already!"  she  exclaimed,  and  opened  her  eyes. 
He  thought,  "At  last!"  but  could  not  have  said 
it,  for  he  was  very  pale,  and  held  both  hands  to 
his  breast,  which  seemed  as  if  it  would  burst. 

The  ascent  of  those  stairs  in  the  melancholy 
grayness  of  the  morning  was  an  epitome  of  their 
whole  history. 

Alphonse  Daudet 

Any  man  that  understands  horses  has  a  pretty 
considerable  fair  knowledge  of  women,  for  they 
are  jist  ali\e  in  temper,  and  require  the  very 
identical  same  treatment.  Incourage  the  timid 
ones,  be  gentle  and  steady  with  the  fractious,  but 
lather  the  sul\y  ones  li\e  blazes. 

''"Sam  SlicJC 
THE   FULLNESS   OF  LOVE 

"Oh,  Rosalind!  I  love  you,  I  worship  you; 
why  is  there  not  a  word  more  expressive  than 
that!  I  have  never  loved,  I  have  never  wop 
shipped  any  one  save  you;  I  prostrate  myself, 

#  25  *• 


THE  THITiG  CALLED  LOVE 

I  humble  myself  before  you,  and  I  would  fain 
compel  all  creation  to  bend  the  knee  before  my 
idol;  you  are  more  to  me  than  the  whole  of 
nature,  more  than  myself,  more  than  God — nay, 
it  seems  strange  to  me  that  God  does  not  descend 
from  heaven  to  become  your  slave.  Where  you 
are  not,  all  is  desolate,  all  is  dead,  all  is  dark; 
you  alone  people  the  world  for  me;  you  are  life, 
sunshine — you  are  everything.  Your  smile  makes 
the  day,  and  your  sadness  the  night;  the  spheres 
follow  the  movements  of  your  body,  and  the 
celestial  harmonies  are  guided  by  you,  O  my 
cherished  queen!  O  my  glorious  and  real  dream! 
You  are  clothed  with  splendour,  and  swim 
ceaselessly  in  radiant  effluence.  .  .  . 

"Every  gesture,  every  pose  of  your  head, 
every  different  aspect  of  your  beauty,  are  graven 
with  a  diamond  point  upon  the  mirror  of  my 
soul,  and  nothing  in  the  world  could  efface  the 
deep  impression;  I  know  in  what  place  the  shad' 
ow  was,  and  in  what  the  light,  the  flat  part 
glistening  beneath  the  ray,  and  the  spot  where 
the  wandering  reflection  was  blended  with  the 
more  softened  tints  of  neck  and  cheek.  I  could 
draw  you  in  your  absence;  the  idea  of  you  is 
ever  placed  before  me.  .  .  . 

"I  beseech  you,  Rosalind,  if  you  do  not  yet 
love  me,  strive  to  love  me  who  have  loved  you 
in  spite  of  everything,  and  beneath  the  veil  in 
$  26  $ 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

which  you  wrap  yourself,  no  doubt  out  of  pity 
for  us;  do  not  devote  the  remainder  of  my  life 
to  the  most  frightful  despair  and  the  most 
gloomy  discouragement;  think  that  I  have  wor- 
shipped  you  ever  since  the  first  ray  of  thought 
shone  into  my  head,  that  you  were  revealed 
to  me  beforehand,  and  that,  when  I  was  quite 
little,  you  appeared  to  me  in  my  dreams  with  a 
crown  of  dew-drops,  two  prismatic  wings,  and 
the  little  blue  flower  in  your  hand;  that  you  are 
the  end,  the  means,  and  the  meaning  of  life; 
that  without  you  I  am  but  an  empty  shadow, 
and  that,  if  you  blow  upon  the  flame  you  have 
kindled,  nothing  will  remain  within  me  but  a 
pinch  of  dust  finer  and  more  impalpable  than 
that  which  besprinkles  the  very  wings  of  death/1 

Thcophile  Cautier 


$  27  £ 


WHAT  LOVE  WILL  DO 


WHAT   LOVE   WILL  DO 


it's  BEING  PROVED  EVERY  DAY 

A  lady  may  continue  to  have  a  heart,  although 
she  is  somewhat  stouter  than  she  was  when  a 
schoolgirl,  and  a  man  his  feelings  although  he  gets 
his  hair  from  Truefitt's. 

Thac\eray 

the  archetype  of  martyrs  to 
cupid's  barbed  humour 

Malvolio  { having  read  the  decoy  letter} — Day 
light  and  champain  discovers  not  more:  this  is 
open.  I  will  be  proud,  I  will  read  politic  authors, 
I  will  baffle  Sir  Toby,  I  will  wash  off  gross  ac' 
quaintance,  I  will  be  point'devise  the  very  man. 
I  do  not  now  fool  myself,  to  let  imagination  jade 
me;  for  every  reason  excites  to  this,  that  my 
lady  loves  me.  She  did  commend  my  yellow 
stockings  of  late,  she  did  praise  my  leg  being 
cross'gartered;  and  in  this  she  manifests  herself 
to  my  love,  and  with  a  kind  of  injunction  drives 

*  31  * 


THE  TH1HG  CALLED  LOVE 

me  to  these  habits  of  her  liking.  I  thank  my  stars 
I  am  happy.  I  will  be  strange,  stout,  in  yellow 
stockings  and  cross-gartered,  even  with  the 
swiftness  of  putting  on.  Jove  and  my  stars  be 
praised !  Here  is  yet  a  postscript. 

(Reads)  "Thou  canst  not  choose  but  know 
who  I  am.  If  thou  entertainest  my  love,  let  it 
appear  in  thy  smiling;  thy  smiles  become  thee 
well;  therefore  in  my  presence  still  smile,  dear 
my  sweet,  I  prithee." 

Jove,  I  thank  thee.  I  will  smile.  .  .  . 

Maria — If  you  desire  the  spleen,  and  will 
laugh  yourself  into  stitches,  follow  me.  Yond 
gull  Malvolio  is  turned  heathen,  a  very  renegade; 
for  there  is  no  Christian,  that  means  to  be  saved 
by  believing  rightly,  can  ever  believe  such  im- 
possible passages  of  grossness.  He's  in  yellow 
stockings. 

Sir  Toby — And  cross-gartered? 

Maria — Most  villainously;  like  a  pedant 
that  keeps  a  school  f  the  church.  I  have  dogged 
him,  like  his  murderer.  He  does  obey  every  point 
of  the  letter  that  I  dropped  to  betray  him;  he 
does  smile  his  face  into  more  lines  than  is  in  the 
new  map  with  the  augmentation  of  the  Indies: 
you  have  not  seen  such  a  thing  as  'tis.  I  can 
hardly  forbear  hurling  things  at  him.  I  know  my 

*  32  * 


WHAT  LOVE  WILL  DO 

lady  will  strike  him:  if  she  do,  he'll  smile  and 
take 't  for  a  great  favour.  .  .  . 

Olivia — How  now,  Malvolio! 

Malvolio — Sweet  lady,  ho,  ho. 

Olivia — Smilest  thou?  I  sent  for  thee  upon  a 
sad  occasion. 

Malvolio — Sad,  lady!  I  could  be  sad:  this 
does  make  some  obstruction  in  the  blood,  this 
cross-gartering;  but  what  of  that?  if  it  please 
the  eye  of  one,  it  is  with  me  as  the  very  true 
sonnet  is,  "Please  one  and  please  all." 

Olivia — Why,  how  dost  thou,  man? — what 
is  the  matter  with  thee? 

Sha\espeare 

MY   UNCLE  TOBY 

Let  love,  therefore,  be  what  it  will, — my 
Uncle  Toby  fell  into  it.  .  .  . 

"I  am  in  love,  Corporal!11  quoth  my  Uncle 
Toby. 

"In  love!1''  said  the  Corporal,  "your  Honour 
was  very  well  the  day  before  yesterday,  when 
I  was  telling  your  Honour  the  story  of  the  King 
of  Bohemia.11  "Bohemia!11  said  my  Uncle  Toby — 
musing  a  long  time.  "What  became  of  that  story, 
Trim?1' 

*  33  # 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

"We  lost  it,  an'  please  your  Honour,  somehow 
betwixt  us;  but  your  Honour  was  as  free  from 
love  then,  as  I  am."  "'Twas  just  whilst  thou 
wents't  off  with  the  wheelbarrow — with  Mrs. 
Wadman,"  quoth  my  Uncle  Toby.  "She  has 
left  a  ball  here,"  added  my  Uncle  Toby,  pointing 
to  his  breast. 

"She  can  no  more,  an'  please  your  Honour, 
stand  a  siege,  than  she  can  fly,"  cried  the  Cor* 
poral. 

"But  as  we  are  neighbours,  Trim — the  best 
way,  I  think,  is  to  let  her  know  it  civilly  first," 
quoth  my  Uncle  Toby. 

"Now,  if  I  might  presume,"  said  the  Corporal, 
"to  differ  from  your  Honour  " 

"Why  else  do  I  talk  to  thee,  Trim?"  said  my 
Uncle  Toby  mildly. 

"Then  I  would  begin  with  a  good  thundering 
attack  upon  her,  in  return — and  telling  her 
civilly  afterwards;  for  if  she  knew  anything  of 

your  Honour's  being  in  love  beforehand  " 

"L — d  help  her!  She  knows  no  more  at  present 
of  it,  Trim,"  said  my  Uncle  Toby,  "than  the 
child  unborn." 

Precious  souls! 

Mrs.  Wadman  had  told  it,  with  all  its  circum* 
stances,  to  Mrs.  Bridget,  twenty^four  hours 
before. 

Laurence  Sterne 


&  34  * 


WHAT  LOVE  WILL  DO 


A   DESPERATE  CASE 

Ralph  Roister  Doister — I  will  go  home  and 
die. 

Mathew  Merygreeke — God  have  mercy  on 
your  soul,  ah,  good  gentleman.  That  e'er  ye 
should  thus  die  for  an  unkind  woman.  Will  ye 
drink  once  ere  ye  go? 

R.  Roister — No,  no,  I  will  none. 

M.  Mery — How  feels  your  soul  to  God? 

R.  Roister — I  am  nigh  gone. 

M.  Mery — Placebo  dilexi.  Master  Roister 
Doister  will  straight  go  home  and  die. 

R.  Roister — Heigh'ho!  Alas,  the  pangs  of 
death  my  heart  do  break ! 

M.  Mery — Hold  your  peace,  for  shame,  sir; 
a  dead  man  may  not  speak ! 

Nequando — What  mourners  and  what  torches 
shall  we  have? 

R.  Roister — None. 

M.  Mery — Dirige.  He  will  go  darkling  to  his 
grave.  7\[eque  lux,  neque  crux,  neque  mourners, 
neque  drink.  He  will  steal  to  heaven,  unknowing 
to  God,  I  think. 

Hicolas  Udall 
THE   VERY   WISE  MERLIN 

Merlin  fell  in  a  dotage  on  the  damsel  that 
King  Pellinore  brought  to  the  court  with  him; 

*  35  * 


THE  THIHC  CALLED  LOVE 

and  she  was  one  of  the  damsels  of  the  lake,  which 
hight  Nimue.  But  Merlin  would  let  her  have  no 
rest,  but  always  he  would  be  with  her  in  every 
place;  and  ever  she  made  Merlin  good  cheer,  till 
she  had  learned  of  him  all  manner  of  things  that 
she  desired,  and  he  was  so  sore  assotted  upon 
her  that  he  might  not  be  from  her.  .  .  .  And 
within  a  while  the  Lady  of  the  Lake  departed,  and 
Merlin  went  evermore  with  her  wheresoever  she 
went.  . . .  And  always  Merlin  lay  about  the  lady; 
and  she  was  ever  passing  weary  of  him,  and  fain 
would  have  been  delivered  of  him;  for  she  was 
afraid  of  him  because  he  was  a  devil's  son,  and 
she  could  not  put  him  away  by  any  means. 

And  so  upon  a  time  it  happened  that  Merlin 
showed  her  a  rock  where  was  a  great  wonder, 
and  wrought  by  enchantment,  which  went 
under  a  stone.  So,  by  her  subtle  craft  and  work' 
ing,  she  made  Merlin  go  under  the  stone  to  let 
her  wit  of  the  marvels  there;  but  she  wrought 
so  there  for  him  that  he  came  never  out,  for  all 
the  craft  that  he  could  do:  and  so  she  departed, 
and  left  Merlin. 

Sir  Thomas  Malory 

THE  BOX  THAT   HAS   BEEN  OFTEN 
ENTERED 

The  doctor  entered  the  cabinet  and  got  into 
one  of  the  three  coffers,  which  Arouya  herself 

*  36  * 


WHAT  LOVE  WILL  DO 

locked,  saying  to  Danischmend,  "Oh,  my  dear 
doctor!  Do  not  get  impatient.  As  soon  as  my 
brother  and  my  husband  have  retired  I  shall 
come  and  rejoin  you."  .  .  .  Instead  of  suspecting 
the  sincerity  of  the  lady  and  imagining  that  the 
position  he  was  in  might  be  a  trap  set  for  him, 
he  preferred  to  persuade  himself  that  he  was 
loved,  and  to  yield  to  the  sweetest  illusions  in 
which  lovers  ordinarily  indulge  who  flatter 
themselves  in  vain  that  they  are  about  to  find 
their  affection  returned. 

Thousand  and  One  Days 


THE   GENTLEMAN   OF  FIFTY 

Dans  la  cinquantaine  I  The  reflection  should 
produce  a  gravity  in  men.  Such  a  number  of 
years  will  not  ring  like  bridal  bells  in  a  man's 
ears.  I  have  my  books  about  me,  my  horses,  my 
dogs,  a  contented  household,  I  move  in  the  cen^ 
tre  of  a  perfect  machine,  and  I  am  dissatisfied. 
I  rise  early.  I  do  not  digest  badly.  What  is  wrong? 

The  calamity  of  my  case  is  that  I  am  in  danger 
of  betraying  what  is  wrong  with  me  to  others, 
without  knowing  it  myself.  Some  woman  will 
be  suspecting  and  tattling,  because  she  has  noth' 
ing  else  to  do. 

George  Meredith 

*  37  * 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 


LE   BOURGEOIS  GENTILHOMME 

M.  Jourdain  [after  having  made  two  hows, 
finding  himself  too  close  to  Dorimene} — A  little 
farther  away,  Madam. 

Dorimene — How? 

M.  Jour. — One  step,  if  you  please. 

Dori. — What  then? 

M.  Jour. — Fall  back  a  little  for  the  third. 

Dorante — Madam,  M.  Jourdain  knows  how 
to  be  genteel. 

M.  Jour. — Madam,  this  is  a  great  honour  to 
me,  to  be  sufficiently  fortunate,  to  be  so  happy, 
to  have  the  felicity,  that  you  have  had  the  good- 
ness of  granting  me  the  favour,  of  doing  me  the 
honour  of  honouring  me  with  the  favour  of  your 
presence;  and  if  I  had  also  the  merit  of  meriting 
a  merit  like  yours,  and  that  Heaven  .  .  .  envious 
of  my  happiness  .  .  .  had  accorded  me  .  .  .  the 
advantage  of  finding  myself  worthy  .  .  .  of  .  .  . 

Moliere 


THE   LORDLY   H  AMILTON'NELSO  N 
TRIANGLE 

At  the  moment  considerably  subsequent  to  his 
return  to  England,  when  he  was  charging  her 
with  neglecting  him  in  her  excessive  care  for 
their  friend's  interest,  and  was  so  far  at  war  with 

*  38  * 


f 


WHAT  LOVE  WILL  DO 

her  as  to  threaten  her  with  "separation,"  the 
poor  old  man  paused  in  his  outbreak  of  petulance 
and  splenetic  jealousy  to  avow  his  undiminished 
confidence,  that  her  affection  for  their  hero  was 
purely  platonic.  ...  Sir  William  was  soothed  in 
his  dying  illness  by  Nelson's  personal  ministra' 
tions,  and  while  expiring  in  his  wife's  arms  lay 
with  his  right  hand  in  the  sailor's  remaining 
hand. 

J.  C.  Jeaffreson 


MR.   PETER  MAGNUS 

"Why,  then,  he'he'he!"  said  Mr.  Peter  Mag' 
nus,  with  a  bashful  titter,  "what  should  you 
think,  Mr.  Pickwick,  if  I  had  come  down  here, 
to  make  a  proposal,  sir,  eh?  He'he'he — P 

"Think!  That  you  were  very  likely  to  sue' 
ceed,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  with  one  of  his 
beaming  smiles. 

"Ah!"  said  Mr.  Magnus.  "But  do  you  really 
think  so,  Mr.  Pickwick?  Do  you,  though?1"' 

"Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Wait  till  tomorrow,  double  the  chance 
then  .  .  .  There  is  a  suit  of  clothes  in  that,  and  a 
hat  in  that  box,  which  I  expect,  in  the  effect 
they  will  produce,  will  be  invaluable  to  me 
sir." 

Charles  Dic\ens 

%  39  # 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 


TAMED 

In  the  meantime,  Bazaroff  occupied  himself 
with  inspecting  the  albums.  "What  a  meek  in' 
dividual  I  have  become,"  he  said  to  himself. 

Turgeniev 

THE    LORD    CHANCELLOR'S  DILEMMA 

"I  thank  your  lordships.  The  feelings  of  a 
Lord  Chancellor  who  is  in  love  with  a  ward  of 
court  are  not  to  be  envied.  What  is  his  position? 
Can  he  give  his  own  consent  to  his  own  marriage 
with  his  own  ward?  Can  he  marry  his  own  ward 
without  his  own  consent?  And  if  he  marries  his 
own  ward  without  his  own  consent  can  he 
commit  himself  for  contempt  of  his  own  court? 
Can  he  appear  by  counsel  before  himself  to  move 
for  arrest  of  his  own  judgment?  Ah,  my  lords, 
it  is  indeed  painful  to  have  to  sit  upon  a  wool' 
sack  which  is  stuffed  with  such  thorns  as  these/1 

W.  S.  Gilbert 

RADHA   AND  KRISHNA 

She  despises  essence  of  sandalwood,  and  even 
by  moonlight  sits  brooding  over  her  gloomy 
sorrow;  she  declares  the  gale  of  Malaya  to  be 
venom,  and  the  sandal  trees  through  which  it 
has  breathed  to  have  been  the  haunt  of  serpents. 
Thus,  O  Madhava,  is  she  afflicted  in  thy  absence 
*  40  * 


WHAT  LOVE  WILL  DO 

with  the  pain  which  love's  dart  has  occasioned; 
her  soul  is  fixed  on  thee.  .  .  .  Her  face  is  like  a 
water  lily  veiled  in  the  dew  of  tears,  and  her 
eyes  appear  like  moons  eclipsed. 

Jayadeva 

THE  WIFE 

Now  I  am  married.  It  is  evening.  I  am  sitting 
in  my  study  reading.  Behind  me  on  the  sofa 
Sasha  is  sitting  munching  something  noisily.  I 
want  a  glass  of  beer. 

"Sasha,  look  for  the  corkscrew.  ..."  I  say. 
"It's  lying  about  somewhere." 

Sasha  leaps  up,  rummages  in  a  disorderly  way 
among  two  or  three  heaps  of  papers,  drops  the 
matches,  and  without  finding  the  corkscrew,  sits 

down  in  silence  Five  minutes  pass — ten  

I  begin  to  be  fretted  both  by  thirst  and  vexation. 

"Sasha,  do  look  for  the  corkscrew,"  I  say. 

Sasha  leaps  up  again  and  rummages  among  the 
papers  near  me.  Her  munching  and  rustling  of 
the  papers  affects  me  like  the  sound  of  sharpen' 
ing  knives  against  each  other.  ...  I  get  up  and 
begin  looking  for  the  corkscrew  myself.  At  last 
it  is  found  and  the  beer  is  uncorked.  Sasha  re' 
mains  by  the  table  and  begins  telling  me  some' 
thing  at  great  length. 

"You'd  better  read  something,  Sasha,"  I  say. 


*  41  * 


THE  THING  CALLED  LOVE 

I  remember  in  my  old  Lovelace  days  I  have, 
cast  off  women  for  a  stain  on  their  stockings  or 
for  one  foolish  word,  or  for  not  cleaning  their 
teeth,  and  now  I  forgive  everything:  the  munch- 
ing, the  muddling  about  after  the  corkscrew, 
the  slovenliness,  the  long  talking  about  nothing 
that  matters;  I  forgive  it  all  almost  unconsciously, 
with  no  effort  of  will,  as  though  Sasha's  mistakes 
were  my  mistakes,  and  many  things  which  would 
have  made  me  wince  in  the  old  days  move  me  to 
tenderness  and  even  rapture.  The  explanation  of 
this  forgiveness  of  everything  lies  in  my  love 
for  Sasha,  but  what  is  the  explanation  of  the  love 
itself,  I  really  don't  know. 

Anton  Chefyov 

WHEN    FORSYTE    BETRAYED  FORSYTE 

Nothing  that  she  could  have  done,  nothing 
that  she  had  done,  brought  home  to  him  like  this 
the  inner  significance  of  her  act.  For  the  moment, 
perhaps,  he  understood  nearly  all  there  was  to 
understand  .  .  .  that  she  had  suffered — that  she 
was  to  be  pitied. 

In  that  moment  of  emotion  he  betrayed  the 
Forsyte  in  him — forgot  himself — his  interests — 
his  property — was  capable  of  almost  anything; 
was  lifted  into  the  pure  ether  of  the  selfless  and 
unpractical. 

John  Galsworthy 

&  42  & 


WHAT  LOVE  WILL  DO 


THE  UPSET 

Little  did  Mr.  Brumley  reckon,  when  first  he 
looked  up  from  his  laces  at  Black  Strand,  how 
completely  that  pretty  young  woman  in  the 
dark  furs  was  destined  to  shatter  all  the  assump' 
tions  that  had  served  his  life. 

H.  G.  Welh 

IN   A  BALCONY 

I  will  learn,  I  will  place  my  life  on  you, 
Teach  me  but  how  to  keep  what  I  have  won! 
Am  I  so  old?  This  hair  was  early  grey; 
But  joy  ere  now  has  brought  hair  brown  again, 
And  joy  will  bring  the  cheek's  red  back,  I  feel. 
I  could  sing  once  too;  that  was  in  my  youth. 

Robert  Browning 

LOVE   VS.  REASON 

Though  the  doctor  could  not  make  pride 
strong  enough  to  conquer  love,  yet  he  exalted 
the  former  to  make  some  stand  against  the  latter; 
insomuch  that  my  poor  Amelia,  I  believe,  more 
than  once  flattered  herself  that  her  reason  had 
gained  entire  victory  over  her  passions,  till  love 
brought  up  a  reinforcement,  if  I  may  use  that 
term,  of  tender  ideas,  and  bore  all  before  him. 

Henry  Fielding 

%  43  # 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 


FOR    FURTHER    DETAILS,  SEE 
MAGAZINE    ADVERTISING  PAGES 

'Tis  now  well,  lady,  you  should 
Use  of  this  dentifrice  I  prescribed  you  too, 
To  clear  your  teeth;  and  the  prepared  pomatum 
To  smooth  the  skin.  A  lady  cannot  be 
Too  curious  of  her  form,  that  still  would  hold 
The  heart  of  such  a  person.  .  .  . 

Ben  Jonson 
NO    RESPECTER    OF  CASTE 

Fat  Haar,  grappling  his  tall  partner  with  up' 
lifted  arm,  galloped  away  without  a  moment's 
intermission,  balancing  and  stamping  with  his 
heels  to  mark  the  time,  and  looking  up  at  her 
from  time  to  time  with  an  air  of  profound  ad' 
miration;  while  she,  with  her  hooked  nose, 
twirled  about  like  a  weathercock. 

Erclqmann'Chatrian. 

WHAT   HAPPENED   TO  JOHANNES 

When  I  realized  from  the  silence  of  my 
Arendse  that  I  must  have  done  my  errand,  I 
ventured  hesitatingly  to  press  her  hand  to  my 
lips,  and  heavenly  fires  shot  blissful  from  her 
fingers  to  the  depths  of  my  soul.  I  lost  pos' 
session  of  myself.  I  retreated  backwards,  bowing 

*  44  * 


WHAT  LOVE  WILL  DO 

every  moment,  and  ...  at  last  came  to  the  head 
of  a  steep  staircase  without  noticing  it. 

Johannes  Ewald. 

THE   HERO   OF  A  THOUSAND  BATTLES 

Charles  XII  (King  of  Sweden,  under  the  as- 
sumed name  of  the  Count  D'Olfen,  aside) — 
Would  anyone  believe  that  I  am  Charles  the 
Twelfth?  I  begin  to  doubt  it  myself.  Nations 
tremble  at  my  name,  yet  I — I  won't  say  tremble 
— but  feel  very  much  like  a  fool  in  the  presence 
of  a  simple  girl!  .  .  . 

Come,  come,  this  won't  do.  Though  she 
doesn't  know  who  I  am,  I  must  remember  that 
I  do. 

Charles  Dance 

JOS   IN   THE  TOILS 

As  Jos's  buggy  drove  up,  and  while,  after  his 
usual  thundering  knock  and  pompous  bustle  at 
the  door,  the  ex-collector  of  Boggley-Wollah 
laboured  up  stairs  to  the  drawing-room,  knowing 
glances  were  telegraphed  between  Osborne  and 
Miss  Sedley,  and  the  pair,  smiling  archly,  looked 
at  Rebecca,  who  actually  blushed  as  she  bent 
her  fair  ringlets  over  her  knitting.  How  her  heart 
beat  as  Joseph  appeared, — Joseph  puffing  from 
the  staircase,  in  shiny,  creaking  boots, — Joseph, 

>  45  * 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 


in  a  new  waistcoat,  red  with  heat  and  nervous' 
ness,  and  blushing  behind  his  wadded  neckcloth. 

And  before  he  had  time  to  ask  how,  Mr. 
Joseph  Sedley  of  the  East  India  Company's  serv' 
ice  was  actually  seated  tete'a'tete  with  a  young 
lady,  looking  at  her  with  a  most  killing  expres' 
sion;  his  arms  stretched  out  before  her  in  an 
imploring  attitude,  and  his  hands  bound  in  a 
web  of  green  silk,  which  she  was  unwinding. 

Thac\eray 

THE  OSTRICH 

Jo  took  her  home,  and  from  that  Sunday  night 
he  began  to  strain  at  the  leash.  He  took  his  sisters 
out,  dutifully,  but  he  would  suggest,  with  a 
carelessness  that  deceived  none,  "Don't  you 
want  one  of  your  girl  friends  to  come  along? 
That  little  WhatVher-Name — ,  Emily,  or  some 
thing.  So  long's  I've  got  three  of  you,  I  might  as 
well  have  a  full  squad." 

Edna  Ferber 

TO  LYDIA 

Who  has  transformed  Sybaris  from  a  hardy 
athlete  into  a  doting  lover? 

O  Lydia,  say,  by  all  the  gods  I  beg  you,  why 
haste  to  ruin  Sybaris  by  your  love?  Why  is  it 
that  he  hates  the  sunny  Plain,  once  able  to  en' 
dure  the  dust  and  heat?  Why  like  a  soldier  does 
*  46  * 


WHAT  LOVE  WILL  DO 


he  prance  no  more  among  his  peers,  nor  curb 
with  sharp-toothed  bits  the  mouths  of  Gallic 
steeds?  Why  fears  he  to  touch  the  yellow  Tiber? 
Why  shuns  he  the  wrestlers1  oil  more  warily 
than  vipers'  blood;  and  no  longer  shows  arms 
discoloured  by  his  weapons,  he  who  gained  glory 
oft  with  the  quoit,  oft  with  the  javelin  sped 
beyond  the  mark?  Why  lies  he  hid,  as  they  tell 
that  the  son  of  Ocean  Thetis  lay,  just  ere  the 
woeful  doom  of  Troy  befell,  lest  his  manly  attire 
might  drag  him  forth  to  the  slaughter  of  the 
Lycian  battalions? 

Horace 

OF  LOVE 

1.  Instruct  me  now,  what  love  will  do; 

2.  ?Twill  make  a  tongless  man  to  wooe. 

1.  Inform  me  next,  what  love  will  do; 

2.  'Twill  strangely  make  a  one  of  two. 

1.  Teach  me  besides,  what  love  will  do; 

2.  'Twill  quickly  mar,  and  make  ye  too. 

1.  Tell  me,  now  last,  what  love  will  do; 

2.  'Twill  hurt  and  heal  a  heart  pierc'd  through. 

Robert  Herric\ 

"when  the  youth  becomes  a 
watcher  of  windows" 

But  here  is  a  strange  fact;  it  may  seem  to  many 
men,  in  revising  their  experience,  that  they  have 
no  fairer  page  in  their  life's  book  than  the  deli' 

*  47  * 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

cious  memory  of  some  passages  wherein  affection 
contrived  to  give  a  witchcraft  surpassing  the 
deep  attraction  of  its  own  truth  to  a  parcel  of 
accidental  and  trivial  circumstances.  In  looking 
backward,  they  may  find  that  several  things, 
which  were  not  the  charm,  have  more  reality  to 
this  groping  memory  than  the  charm  itself  which 
embalmed  them.  But  be  our  experience  in  par' 
ticulars  what  it  may,  no  man  ever  forgot  the 
visitations  of  that  power  to  his  heart  and  brain, 
which  created  all  things  new;  which  was  the 
dawn  in  him  of  music,  poetry,  and  art;  which 
made  the  face  of  nature  radiant  with  purple 
light,  the  morning  and  the  night  varied  enchant' 
ments;  when  a  single  tone  of  one  voice  could 
make  the  heart  bound,  and  the  most  trivial  cir' 
cumstance  associated  with  one  form  is  put  in 
the  amber  of  memory;  when  he  became  all  eye 
when  one  was  present,  and  all  memory  when 
one  was  gone;  when  the  youth  becomes  a 
watcher  of  windows,  and  studious  of  a  glove,  a 
veil,  a  ribbon,  or  the  wheels  of  a  carriage;  when 
no  place  is  too  solitary,  and  none  too  silent,  for 
him  who  has  richer  company  and  sweeter  con' 
versation  in  his  new  thoughts,  than  any  old 
friends,  though  best  and  purest,  can  give  him*, 
.  .  .  and  when  the  day  was  not  long  enough,  but 
the  night,  too,  must  be  consumed  in  keen  recol' 
lections;  when  the  head  boiled  all  night  on  the 
*  48  * 


WHAT  LOVE  WILL  DO 


pillow  with  the  generous  deed  it  resolved  on; 
when  the  moonlight  was  a  pleasing  fever,  and 
the  stars  were  letters,  and  the  flowers  ciphers, 
and  the  air  was  coined  into  song,  when  all  busi' 
ness  seemed  an  impertinence,  and  all  the  men 
and  women  running  to  and  fro  in  the  streets 
mere  pictures. 

Emerson 

The  wrinkles  on  my  face  are  all  untold, 
My  hair  is  gray  and  thin; 
My  limbs  are  sadly  feeble  grown  and  old; 
But  love  is  young,  and  sin. 

From  the  Sanscrit 

He  mooned  at  her  feet.  ...  He  bought  a 
violent  yellow  tie,  to  make  him  self  young  for  her. 
He  knew,  a  little  sadly,  that  he  could  not  make 
himself  beautiful;  he  beheld  himself  as  heavy, 
hinting  of  fatness,  but  he  danced,  he  dressed,  he 
chattered,  to  be  as  young  as  she  was  ...  as 
young  as  she  seemed  to  be. 

Sinclair  Lewis 

O  Mother  Venus,  quit,  1  pray, 

Tour  violent  assailing  \ 

The  arts,  forsooth,  that  fired  my  youth 

At  last  are  unavailing; 

My  blood  runs  cold,  Tm  getting  old, 

And  all  my  powers  are  failing. 

Eugene  Field 

*  49  * 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

"You,  gentlemen,  seem  to  think  slavery  a 
pleasant  and  an  honourable  state.  You  have  less 
experience  of  it  than  I.  I  have  been  enslaved  to 
Miss  Dobson  since  yesterday  evening;  you, 
only  since  this  afternoon;  I,  at  close  quarters; 
you,  at  a  respectful  distance.  Your  fetters  have 
not  galled  you  yet;  my  wrists,  my  ankles,  are 
excoriated.  The  iron  has  entered  into  my  soul. 
I  droop.  I  stumble.  Blood  flows  from  me.  I  quiver 
and  curse.  I  writhe.  The  sun  mocks  me.  The 
moon  titters  in  my  face.  I  can  stand  it  no  longer. 
I  will  no  more  of  it.  To-morrow  I  die." 

Max  Beerbohm 

LOVE,    THE  TRICKSTER 

O  love,  what  monstrous  tricks  dost  thou 
play  with  thy  votaries  of  both  sexes !  How  dost 
thou  deceive  them,  and  make  them  deceive  them* 
selves!  Their  follies  are  thy  delight!  Their  sighs 
make  thee  laugh,  and  their  pangs  are  thy  merri- 
ment! 

Not  the  great  Rish,  who  turns  men  into  mon- 
keys,  wheel-barrows,  and  whatever  else  best 
humours  his  fancy,  hath  so  strangely  metamor- 
phosed the  human  shape;  nor  the  great  Cibber, 
who  confounds  all  number,  gender,  and  breaks 
through  every  rule  of  grammar  at  his  will,  hath 
so  distorted  the  English  language  as  thou  doth 
metamorphose  and  distort  the  human  senses. 
*  50  * 


WHAT  LOVE  WILL  DO 

Thou  puttest  out  our  eyes,  stoppest  up  our 
ears,  and  takest  away  the  power  of  our  nostrils; 
so  that  we  can  neither  see  the  largest  object, 
hear  the  loudest  noise,  nor  smell  the  most  poigiv 
ant  perfume.  Again,  when  thou  pleasest,  thou 
canst  make  a  molehill  appear  as  a  mountain,  a 
JewVharp  sound  like  a  trumpet,  and  a  daisy 
smell  like  a  violet.  Thou  canst  make  cowardice 
brave,  avarice  generous,  pride  humble,  and 
cruelty  tender-hearted.  In  short,  thou  turnest 
the  heart  of  man  inside  out,  as  a  juggler  doth  a 
petticoat,  and  bringest  whatsoever  pleaseth 
thee  out  from  it. 

Fielding 


HOW  MEN  MAKE  LOVE  IN 
NOVELS 


HOW  MEN   MAKE   LOVE   IN  NOVELS 
THE   AMERICAN  BROKER 

"By  George,  111  do  it  now,"  said  Maxwell, 
half  aloud.  "I'll  ask  her  now.  I  wonder  I  didn't 
do  it  long  ago." 

He  dashed  into  the  inner  office  with  the  haste 
of  a  short  trying  to  cover.  He  charged  upon  the 
desk  of  the  stenographer. 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  smile.  A  soft 
pink  crept  over  her  cheek,  and  her  eyes  were 
kind  and  frank.  Maxwell  leaned  one  elbow  on 
her  desk.  He  still  clutched  fluttering  papers  with 
both  hands  and  the  pen  was  above  his  ear. 

"Miss  Leslie,"  he  began  hurriedly,  "I  have 
but  a  moment  to  spare.  I  want  to  say  something 
in  that  moment.  Will  you  be  my  wife?  I  haven't 
— had  time  to  make  love  to  you  in  the  ordinary 
way,  but  I  really  do  love  you.  Talk  quick,  please 
— those  fellows  are  clubbing  the  stuffing  out  of 
Union  Pacific." 

"Oh,  what  are  you  talking  about?"  exclaimed 

#  55  *■ 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

the  young  lady.  She  rose  to  her  feet  and  ga^ed 
upon  him,  round-eyed. 

"Don't  you  understand?"  said  Maxwell,  res- 
tively.  "I  want  you  to  marry  me.  I  love  you,  Miss 
Leslie.  I  wanted  to  tell  you,  and  I  snatched  a 
minute  when  things  had  slackened  up  a  bit. 
They're  calling  me  for  the  'phone  now.  Tell  'em 
to  wait  a  minute,  Pitcher.  Won't  you,  Miss 
Leslie?" 

The  stenographer  acted  very  queerly.  At 
first  she  seemed  overcome  with  amazement;  then 
tears  flowed  from  her  wondering  eyes;  and  then 
she  smiled  sunnily  through  them,  and  one  of  her 
arms  slid  tenderly  about  the  broker's  neck. 

"I  know  now,"  she  said,  softly.  "It's  this  old 
business  that  has  driven  everything  else  out  of 
your  head  for  the  time.  I  was  frightened  at  first. 
Don't  you  remember,  Harvey?  We  were  married 
last  evening  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  Little  Church 
Around  the  Corner." 

O.  Henry 

THE   YOUNG   ENGLISH  NOBLEMAN'S 
FIRST  LOVE 

"You  wish — wish  to  leave  me?"  His  breath 
went  with  the  words. 
"Indeed  I  must." 

Her  hand  became  a  closer  prisoner. 

All  at  once  an  alarming  delicious  shudder 

%  56  * 


HOW  MEH  MAKE  LOVE  IK  HOVELS 


went  through  her  frame.  From  him  to  her  it 
coursed,  and  back  from  her  to  him.  Forward  and 
back  love's  electric  messenger  rushed  from  heart 
to  heart,  knocking  at  each  till  it  surged  tumul' 
tuously  against  the  bars  of  its  prison,  crying  out 
for  its  mate.  They  stood  trembling  in  unison,  a 
lovely  couple  under  these  fair  heavens  of  the 
morning. 

When  he  could  get  his  voice  it  said,  "Will 
you  go?11 

But  she  had  none  to  reply  with,  and  could 
only  mutely  bend  upward  her  gentle  wrist. 

"Then  farewell!"  he  said;  and  dropping  his 
lips  to  the  soft  fair  hand,  kissed  it,  and  hung 
his  head,  swinging  away  from  her,  ready  for 
death. 

Strange,  that  now  she  was  released  she  should 
linger  by  him.  Strange,  that  his  audacity,  instead 
of  the  executioner,  brought  blushes  and  timid 
tenderness  to  his  side,  and  the  sweet  words, 
"You  are  not  angry  with  me?" 

"With  you,  O  Beloved!"  cried  his  soul. 
"And  you  forgive  me,  fair  charity!" 

She  repeated  her  words  in  deeper  sweetness 
to  his  bewildered  look;  and  he,  inexperienced, 
possessed  by  her,  almost  lifeless  with  the  divine 
new  emotions  she  had  realized  in  him,  could 
only  sigh  and  gaze  at  her  wonderingly. 

"I  think  it  was  rude  of  me  to  go  without 

*  57  * 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

thanking  you  again,"  she  said,  and  again  prof, 
fered  her  hand. 

The  sweet  heaven-bird  shivered  out  his  song 
above  him.  The  gracious  glory  of  heaven  fell 
upon  his  soul.  He  touched  her  hand,  not  moving 
his  eyes  from  her  nor  speaking;  and  she,  with  a 
soft  word  of  farewell,  passed  across  the  stile,  and 
up  the  pathway  through  the  dewy  shades  of 
the  copse,  and  out  of  the  arch  of  the  light,  away 
from  his  eyes. 

George  Meredith 

the  scotch  creator  of 
"sentimental  tommy" 

I  hope  I  may  not  be  disturbed,  for  to-night 
I  must  make  my  hero  say  "Darling,"  and  it  needs 
both  privacy  and  concentration.  In  a  word,  let 
me  admit  (though  I  should  like  to  beat  about  the 
bush)  that  I  have  sat  down  to  a  love  chapter. 

Too  long  has  it  been  avoided.  Albert  had 
called  Marion  "dear"  only,  as  yet,  but  though 
the  public  will  probably  read  the  word  without 
blinking,  it  went  off  in  my  hands  with  a  bang. 

They  tell  me — the  Sassenach  tell  me — that  in 
time  I  shall  be  able  without  a  blush  to  make 
Albert  say  "darling"  and  even  gather  her  up 
in  his  arms,  but  I  begin  to  doubt  it;  the  moment 
sees  me  as  shy  as  ever;  I  still  find  it  advisable  to 
lock  the  door,  and  then — no  witness  save  the 
#  58  * 


HOW  MEH  MAKE  LOVE  W  HOVELS 


dog — I  "do"  it  dourly  with  my  teeth  clenched 
(my  knee  in  the  small  of  Albert's  back)  while  the 
dog  retreats  into  the  far  corner  and  moans. 

The  bolder  Englishman  (I  am  told)  will  write 
a  love'chapter  and  then  go  out,  quite  coolly, 
to  dinner,  but  such  goings  on  are  contrary  to 
the  Scotch  nature;  even  the  great  novelists 
dared  not.  Conceive  Mr.  Stevenson  left  alone 
with  a  hero,  a  heroine,  and  a  proposal  impending 
(he  does  not  know  where  to  look). 

Sir  Walter  in  the  same  circumstances  gets  out 
of  the  room  by  making  his  love'scenes  take  place 
between  the  end  of  one  chapter  and  the  begin' 
ning  of  the  next,  but  he  could  afford  to  do  any- 
thing, and  the  small  fry  must  e'en  to  their  task, 
moan  the  dog  as  he  may. 

J.  M.  Barrie 

OLIVIER  BERTIN,  FRENCHMAN 
AND  ARTIST 

"Oh,  my  God!  I  wish  I  could  make  you  under  ^ 
stand  how  I  love  you!  I  am  always  seeking,  but 
cannot  find  a  means.  When  I  think  of  you — 
and  I  am  always  thinking  of  you — I  feel  in  the 
depths  of  my  being  an  unspeakable  intoxication 
of  longing  to  be  yours,  an  irresistible  need  of 
giving  myself  to  you  even  more  completely.  I 
should  like  to  sacrifice  myself  in  some  absolute 
way,  for  there  is  nothing  better,  when  one  loves, 

*  59  * 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

than  to  give,  to  give  always,  all,  all,  life,  thought, 
body,  all  that  one  had,  to  feel  that  one  is  giving, 
and  to  be  ready  to  risk  anything  to  give  still 
more.  I  love  you  so  much  that  I  love  to  suffer 
for  you,  I  love  even  my  anxieties,  my  torments, 
my  jealousies,  the  pain  I  feel  when  I  realize  that 
you  are  no  longer  tender  toward  me.  I  love  in 
you  a  something  that  only  I  have  discovered,  a 
you  which  is  not  the  you  of  the  world  that  is 
admired  and  known,  a  you  which  is  mine,  which 
cannot  change  nor  grow  old,  which  I  cannot 
cease  to  love,  for  I  have,  to  look  at  it,  eyes  that 
see  it  alone.  But  one  cannot  say  these  things. 
There  are  no  words  to  express  them.'" 

de  Maupassant 

THE  SPANIARD   IN   LOVE   WITH  A 
GIPSY 

"I  cast  myself  at  her  feet,  I  seised  her  hands, 
I  watered  them  with  my  tears,  I  reminded  her 
of  all  the  happy  moments  we  had  spent  together, 
I  offered  to  continue  my  brigand's  life,  if  that 
would  please  her.  Everything,  sir,  everything — 
I  offered  her  everything  if  she  would  only  love 
me  again. 

"She  said: 

"'Love  you  again?  That's  not  possible!  Live 
with  you?  I  will  not  do  itf 

"I  was  wild  with  fury.  I  drew  my  knife,  I 

*  60  & 


HOW  MEH  MAKE  LOVE  IH  HOVELS 

would  have  had  her  look  frightened,  and  sue  for 
mercy — but  that  woman  was  a  demon. 

"I  cried,  'For  the  last  time  I  ask  you,  will  you 
stay  with  me?' 

"'No!  no!  no!'  she  said, and  she  stamped  her 
foot. 

"I  struck  her  twice  over — I  had  taken  Garcia's 
knife,  because  I  had  broken  my  own.  At  the 
second  thrust  she  fell  without  a  sound.  It  seems 
to  me  that  I  can  still  see  her  great  black  eyes 
staring  at  me.  Then  they  grew  dim  and  the  lids 
closed." 

Prosper  Mcrimee 


AUSTRIAN   JEW,   GENIUS  AND 
STATESMAN 

At  the  foot  of  the  mountain  a  boy  handed  her 
a  letter  from  Alvan — a  burning  flood  rolled  out 
of  him  like  lava  after  they  had  separated  on  the 
second  plateau,  and  confided  to  one  who  knew 
how  to  outstrip  pathfarers.  She  entered  her 
hotel  across  the  lake,  and  met  a  telegram.  At 
night  the  wires  flashed  "Sleep  well"  to  her;  on 
her  awakening  "Good-morning."  A  lengthened 
history  of  the  day  was  telegraphed  for  her 
amusement.  Again  at  night  there  was  a  "God 
guard  you!" 

"Who  can  resist  him?"  sighed  Clotilde,  ex' 
&  61 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

cited,  nervous,  flattered,  happy,  but  yearning 
to  repose  and  be  curtained  from  the  buss  of  the 
excess  of  life  that  he  put  about  her. 

George  'Meredith 

THE  ITALIAN   FALLS   IN   LOVE  WITH 
HIS  WIFE 

Stooping  over  her,  in  an  attitude  of  adoration, 
Gismondi  felt  the  old'time  ardour  reviving  with' 
in  him,  and  only  by  an  effort  refrained  from 
crushing  her  in  his  arms.  Science  was  right;  the 
mimicry  and  the  parody  of  passion  had  resuc 
rected  passion  itself.  The  law  of  reversibility 
had  received  new  confirmation!  Through  his 
acting,  day  after  day,  toward  her  as  in  the  time 
of  their  early  love,  all  unconsciously,  and  as  if 
by  virtue  of  some  philter,  love  had  sprung  up 
anew. 

"It  is  seven  years,"  he  continued,  bending 
lower  and  lower  above  her  bowed  head,  perfect 
in  its  lines,  adorable  in  its  thoughts;  "it  is  seven 
years  since  we  first  met, — have  you  ceased  to 
remember? — the  twenty-fourth  of  April?  You 
are  right  not  to  remember, — for  two  years  now 
we  have  not  kept  the  day, — and  it  was  my 
fault  we  didn't!  I  have  been  so  much  at  fault !" 

She  still  kept  her  head  bowed,  as  if  feeling 
the  oppression  of  the  heavy  perfume,  and  me' 
chanically  fingered  a  petal  of  one  of  the  gardenias. 
$  62  $ 


HOW  MEK  MAKE  LOVE  IH  HOVELS 

Suddenly  he  leaned  in  front  of  her,  clasped 
her  waist,  and  kissed  her  on  the  lips,  fiercely. 

"Giulia!  Giulietta!  I  love  you,  do  you  hear 
me?  I  can't  keep  it  to  myself  any  longer !  Listen, 
I  feel  as  if  I  were  waking  from  a  dream,  from  a 
nightmare!  What  harm  I  have  done  you,  and 
what  harm  I  have  done  myself!  But  you  are  an 
angel,  because  you  have  forgiven  me,  haven't 
you?" 

By  this  time  she  was  returning  his  caresses, 
and  the  poor  gardenias  got  the  worst  of  it. 

"Is  it  all  real?  Is  it  truly  you?  Really,  truly 
you?11 

"Yes,  dear,  it  is  I,  the  real,  true  I,  when  I  am 
like  this.  It  was  another  person  altogether  who 
was  so  bad  to  you, — no,  not  bad,  but  foolish, 
idiotic  " 

And  giving  free  vent  to  the  tumultuous  flood 
of  his  emotions,  love  and  joy  and  remorse,  he 
made  himself  out  worse  than  he  had  really  been. 

Federigo  di  Roberto 

A   PROSPEROUS   RUSSIAN  PEASANT 

And  as  though  her  gesture  had  decided  him, 
Zakhar  raised  his  fist  and  struck  her  on  the  head. 
She  uttered  a  low  moan  and  swayed  where  she 
stood.  The  white  cloth  fell  from  her  shoulders 
and  her  comb  slipped  from  her  hair  into  the 
grass.  With  a  savage  joy  Zakhar  struck  her  once 
#  63  # 


THE  THIKG  CALLED  LOVE 

more  and  Glafira  fell  to  her  hands  and  knees  and 
burst  into  tears. 

A  feeling  of  horror,  pity  and  despair  seized 
Zakhar.  In  one  bewildered  moment  he  stood 
gazing  at  her  as  she  sobbed  and  then  he  walked 
quickly  away  and  stood  still  with  his  throbbing 
brow  pressed  against  the  cold  rough  bark  of  an 
old  willow.  A  dark  void  filled  his  soul.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  everything  must  be  ended  between 
them. 

"Now  everything  is  ended  .  .  .  ended  !"  was 
the  one  thought  turning  in  his  brain. 

But  suddenly  two  soft  warm  arms  came  steal' 
ing  round  his  neck  from  behind,  and  Glafira's 
supple  burning  form  was  pressed  to  him  tight — 
tight.  Unable  to  trust  his  senses,  Zakhar  turned 
round;  Glafira  hung  round  his  neck,  looking  up  to 
him  with  her  wide  slanted  black  eyes  wet  with 
tears  and  on  her  lips  a  strange  smile  of  exultation. 

"Beat  me.  ...  He  beat  me.  .  .  .  What  a  man 
he  is,"  she  muttered  deliriously. 

Jealousy,  fear,  despair  vanished  suddenly. 

Mikhail  Artzybashef 

THE   YOUNGER   SET  IN  THE 
UNITED  STATES 

His  lips  moved  lazily  over  her  face. 
"You  taste  so  good  f  he  sighed. 

F.  Scott  Fitzgerald 

*  64  $ 


HOW  MEK  MAKE  LOVE  m  HOVELS 


THE  NOVICE 

But  the  hour  came  when  the  patience  of  love 
at  twenty-one  could  endure  no  longer.  One 
Saturday  he  approached  the  school  with  a  mild 
air  of  indifference,  and  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  the  object  of  his  quest  at  the  further  end 
of  her  garden,  trying,  by  the  aid  of  a  spade  and 
gloves,  to  root  a  bramble  that  had  intruded  itself 
there. 

He  disguised  his  feelings  from  some  suspicious' 
looking  cottage  windows  opposite  by  endeavour' 
ing  to  appear  like  a  man  in  a  great  hurry  of  busi' 
ness,  who  wished  to  leave  the  handkerchief  and 
have  done  with  such  trifling  errands. 

This  endeavour  signally  failed;  for  on  ap' 
proaching  the  gate  he  found  it  locked,  to  keep 
the  children,  who  were  playing  prisoner's  base 
in  the  front,  from  running  into  her  private 
grounds. 

She  did  not  see  him;  and  he  could  only  think 
of  one  thing  to  be  done,  which  was  to  shout  her 
name. 

"Miss  Day!" 

The  words  were  uttered  with  a  jerk  and  a  look 
meant  to  imply  to  the  cottages  opposite  that  he 
was  simply  a  man  who  liked  shouting  as  a  pleas' 
ant  way  of  passing  his  time,  without  any  reference 
to  persons  in  gardens.  The  name  died  away, 
%  65  $ 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

and  the  unconscious  Miss  Day  continued  digging 
and  pulling  as  before. 

He  screwed  himself  up  to  enduring  the  cottage 
windows  yet  more  stoically,  and  shouted  again. 
Fanny  took  no  notice  whatever. 

He  shouted  the  third  time,  with  desperate 
vehemence,  turning  suddenly  about  and  retiring 
a  little  distance,  as  if  it  were  by  no  means  for 
his  own  pleasure  that  he  had  come. 

This  time  she  heard  him,  came  down  the  gar' 
den,  and  entered  the  school  at  the  back.  Foot- 
steps echoed  across  the  interior,  the  door  opened, 
and  three-quarters  of  the  blooming  young  school- 
mistress's face  and  figure  stood  revealed  before 
him;  a  slice  on  her  left-hand  side  being  cut  off 
by  the  edge  of  the  door.  Having  surveyed  and 
recognized  him,  she  came  to  the  gate. 

At  sight  of  him  had  the  pink  of  her  cheeks 
increased,  lessened,  or  did  it  continue  to  cover 
its  normal  area  of  ground?  It  was  a  question 
meditated  several  hundreds  of  times  by  her 
visitor  in  after-hours — the  meditation,  after 
wearying  involutions,  always  entering  in  one 
way,  that  it  was  impossible  to  say. 

"Your  handkerchief:  Miss  Day:  I  called 
with."  He  held  it  out  spasmodically  and  awk- 
wardly. "Mother  found  it:  under  a  chair." 

"O,  thank  you  very  much  for  bringing  it,  Mr. 
Dewy.  I  couldn't  think  where  I  had  dropped  it." 
$  66  * 


HOW  MEH  MAKE  LOVE  IH  HOVELS 

Now  Dick,  not  being  an  experienced  lover — 
indeed,  never  before  having  been  engaged  in 
the  practice  of  love-making  at  all,  except  in  a 
small  schoolboy  way — could  not  take  advantage 
of  the  situation;  and  out  came  the  blunder, 
which  afterwards  cost  him  so  many  bitter  mo 
ments  and  three  sleepless  nights: — 

"Good-morning,  Miss  Day." 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Dewy." 

The  gate  was  closed;  she  was  gone;  and  Dick 
was  standing  outside,  unchanged  in  his  condi- 
tion from  what  he  had  been  before  he  called. 
Of  course  the  Angel  was  not  to  blame — a  young 
woman  living  alone  in  a  house  could  not  ask 
him  indoors  unless  she  had  known  him  better — 
he  should  have  kept  her  outside.  He  wished  that 
before  he  called  he  had  realized  more  fully  than 
he  did  the  pleasure  of  being  about  to  call;  and 
turned  away. 

Thomas  Hardy 

"strong  as  death'1 

He  had  risen. 
"Good-bye,  Any!" 

"Good-bye,  dear  friend.  I  will  come  to  see  you 
to-morrow  morning.  Would  you  like  me  to  do 
something  very  imprudent,  as  I  used  to  do — pre- 
tend to  breakfast  here  at  noon,  and  then  go  and 
have  breakfast  with  you  at  quarter  past  one?" 
&  67  % 


THE  THING  CALLED  LOVE 

"Yes,  I  should  like  it  very  much.  You  are  so 

good!" 

"It  is  because  I  love  you." 

"And  I  love  you,  too." 

"Oh,  don't  speak  of  that  any  more!" 

"Good'bye,  Any." 

"Good'bye,  dear  friend,  till  tomorrow." 
"Good-bye!" 

He  kissed  her  hands  many  times,  then  he 
kissed  her  brow,  then  the  corner  of  her  lips. 
His  eyes  were  dry  now,  his  bearing  resolute. 
Just  as  he  was  about  to  go,  he  seized  her,  clasped 
her  close  in  both  arms,  and  pressing  his  lips  to 
her  forehead,  he  seemed  to  drink  in,  to  inhale 
from  her  all  the  love  she  had  for  him. 

de  Maupassant 


*  68  * 


FLIRTING  — WITH  THE 
DICTIONARY 


FLIRTING  WITH  THE  DICTIONARY 

I.  FLIRT:  To  give  (a  person)  a  sharp  sudden 
blow,  or  \noc\;  to  rap,  stride. 

'Hew  English  Dictionary 
SYMPTOMS  THE   KNOCK  PERSONAL 

Beatrice — I  wonder  that  you  will  still  be 
talking,  Signior  Benedick :  nobody  marks  you. 

Benedick — What,  my  dear  Lady  Disdain!  are 
you  yet  living? 

Beatrice — Is  it  possible  disdain  should  die 
while  she  hath  such  food  to  feed  it  as  Signior 
Benedick?  Courtesy  itself  must  convert  to  dis- 
dain if  you  come  in  her  presence. 

Benedick — Then  is  courtesy  a  tunvcoat.  But 
it  is  certain  I  am  loved  of  all  ladies,  only  you  ex- 
cepted; and  I  would  I  could  find  in  my  heart 
that  I  had  not  a  hard  heart;  for  truly  I  love  none. 

Beatrice — A  dear  happiness  to  women:  they 
would  else  have  been  troubled  with  a  pernicious 
suitor.  I  thank  God  and  my  cold  blood,  I  am  of 

*  71  # 


THE  THIKG  CALLED  LOVE 

your  humour  for  that:  I  had  rather  hear  my  dog 
bark  at  a  crow  than  a  man  swear  he  loves  me. 

Benedick — God  keep  your  ladyship  still  in 
that  mind!  so  some  gentleman  or  other  shall 
'scape  a  predestinate  scratched  face. 

Shakespeare 

There  are  certain  censures  which  praise,  just 
as  there  are  certain  praises  which  damn. 

La  Rochefoucauld 

SYMPTOMS  THE   KNOCK  GENERIC 

Mrs.  Millamant — Oh,  the  vanity  of  these 
men!  If  they  did  not  commend  us,  we  were  not 
handsome!  Beauty  the  lover's  gift!  Lord,  what  is 
a  lover  that  it  can  give?  Why,  one  makes  lovers 
as  fast  as  one  pleases,  and  they  live  as  long  as 
one  pleases;  and  then,  if  one  pleases,  one  makes 
more. 

Mirabell — Very  pretty.  Why,  you  make  no 
more  of  making  lovers,  madam,  than  of  making 
so  many  card'tnatches. 

Mrs.  Millamant — One  no  more  owes  one's 
beauty  to  a  lover  than  one's  wit  to  an  echo. 
They  can  but  reflect  what  we  look  and  say;  vain 
empty  things  if  we  are  silent  or  unseen,  and  want 
a  being. 

Mirabell — Yet  to  those  two  vain  empty 

*  72  * 


FLlRTIKiG-WITH  THE  DICTIOHART 

things  you  owe  the  two  greatest  pleasures  of 
your  life. 

Mrs.  Millamant — How  so? 

Mirabell — To  your  lover  you  owe  the  pleas- 
ure of  hearing  yourselves  praised,  and  to  an  echo 
the  pleasure  of  hearing  yourselves  talk. 

Congreve 

A   PRACTICAL  HINT 

It  may  be  observed  that  when  a  young  woman 
returns  a  rude  answer  to  a  young  man's  civil 
remark,  her  heart  is  in  a  state  which  argues  rather 
hopefully  for  his  case  than  otherwise. 

Hardy 

THE  SKILFUL  PRACTITIONER 

They  played  a  game  of  forfeits.  The  girls  put 
their  heads  together,  and  condemned  her  to  kiss 
the  one  she  loved  best.  But  she  rose,  stately  in 
her  anger,  and  said: 

"May  I  not  just  as  well  give  a  blow  to  the 
one  I  like  the  least?" 

The  moment  after,  Gosta's  cheek  burned 
under  her  firm  hand.  He  flushed  a  flaming  red, 
but  conquering  himself,  seized  her  hand,  held  it 
fast  a  second,  and  whispered:  "Meet  me  in  half 
an  hour  in  the  red  drawing-room  on  the  lower 
floor.'1 

His  blue  eyes  flashed  on  her  and  encompassed 
*  73  * 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 


her  with  magical  waves.  She  felt  that  she  must 
obey. 

He  sat  down  on  the  sofa  beside  her.  Gently 
he  put  his  arm  about  her  waist.  She  did  not  move 
away.  She  pressed  closer  to  him,  threw  her  arms 
round  his  neck.  "I  have  watched  you  this  eve 
ning,11  she  whispered;  "there  is  no  one  like  you.11 

Lagerlof 

Love  of  itself  s  too  sweet.  The  best  of  all 
Is  when  Love's  honey  has  a  touch  of  gall. 

Herric\ 

THAT   ELUSIVE   REASON  WHY 

Elizabeth  wanted  Mr.  Darcy  to  account  for 
his  having  fallen  in  love  with  her.  "My  beauty 
you  had  early  withstood,  and  as  for  my  manners 
— my  behaviour  to  you  was  at  least  always  bor' 
dering  on  the  uncivil,  and  I  never  spoke  to  you 
without  rather  wishing  to  give  you  pain  than 
not.  Now,  be  sincere;  did  you  admire  me  for  my 
impertinence?11 

"For  the  liveliness  of  your  mind,  I  did.11 
"You  may  as  well  call  it  impertinence  at  once. 
The  fact  is,  you  were  disgusted  with  women 
who  were  always  speaking,  looking,  and  think' 
ing  for  your  approbation  alone.  I  roused  and 
interested  you  because  I  was  unlike  them.11 

Jane  Austen 

*  74  * 


FLIRTIXG-WITH  THE  DICT  IO?{A  R  T 

That  you  are  in  a  terrible  taking, 
By  all  these  sweet  oglings  I  see; 

But  the  fruit  that  can  fall  without  shaking 
Indeed  is  too  mellow  for  me. 

Lady  Mary  Worthy  Montagu 

II.  FLIRT:  To  play  at  courtship,  to  practise 
coquetry;  to  ma\e  love  without  serious  intentions. 

?{ew  English  Dictionary 

Men  shal  not  wo  we  a  wight  in  hevinesse. 

Chaucer 

NOT   A    GAME   FOR  THE 
HEAVY'HANDED 

Mrs.  Millamant — Well,  what  do  you  say 
*o  me? 

Mirabell — I  say  that  a  man  may  as  well 
make  a  friend  by  his  wit,  or  a  fortune  by  his 
honesty,  as  win  a  woman  by  plain  dealing  and 
sincerity. 

Mrs.  Millamant — Sententious  Mirabell ! 
Prithee,  don't  look  with  that  violent  and  in' 
flexible  wise  face  like  Solomon  at  the  dividing  of 
the  child  in  an  old  tapestry  hanging. 

Mirabell — You  are  merry,  madam,  but  I 
would  persuade  you  for  a  moment  to  be  serious. 

Mrs.  Millamant — What,  with  that  face? 
No,  if  you  keep  your  countenance,  'tis  impossible 
75  % 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

I  should  hold  mine. — Well,  after  all,  there  is 
something  very  moving  in  a  love-sick  face.  Ha! 
Ha!  Ha! — Well,  I  won't  laugh;  don't  be  peevish 
— Heigho!  Now  I'll  be  melancholy,  as  melan- 
choly  as  a  watch-light.  Well,  Mirabell,  if  ever 
you  will  win  me,  woo  me  now. — Nay,  if  you  are 
so  tedious,  fare  you  well. 

Congreve 

Why  so  pale  and  wan,  fair  lover? 

Prithee,  why  so  pale? 
Will,  when  looking  well  won't  move  her, 

Looking  ill  prevail? 

Prithee,  why  so  pale? 

Suckling 

Women  of  spirit  are  not  to  be  won  by  mourn- 
ers. Divert  your  mistress  rather  than  sigh  for 
her.  The  pleasant  man  she  will  desire  for  her 
own  sake,  but  the  languishing  lover  has  nothing 
to  hope  from  her. 

Steele 

There  is  lightness,  laughter,  a  spice  of  mischief 
in  genuine  flirtation, — the  fusing  of  a  champagne 
that  is  all  froth,  with  never  a  drop  of  alcohol  at 
the  bottom  of  the  glass. 

Bourget 

*  76  $ 


FLIRTIHG-WITH  THE  DICTIOKART 


NO   PLACE  FOR  EARNESTNESS 

"So,  Jenny,  youVe  found  another  Perfect  Man?" 

"Perfect,  perhaps,  but  not  so  sweet  as  you, 
Not  such  a  baby."  "Me?  A  baby! — Why, 
I  am  older  than  the  rocks  on  which  I  sit — " 
Oh,  how  delightful,  talking  about  oneself. 

"Jenny,  adorable" — (what  draws  the  line 
At  the  one  word,  "love"?)  "has  any  one  the 
right 

To  look  so  lovely  as  you  do  to-night, 
To  have  such  eyes  and  such  a  helmet  of  bright 
hair?" 

But  candidly,  he  wondered,  do  I  care? 

Aldous  Huxley 

Flirtation — attention  without  intention. 

Max  O'Rell 

Conscience  has  no  more  to  do  with  gallantry 
than  it  has  with  politics. 

Sheridan 

COQUETRY  — FOURTEENTH  CENTURY 
STYLE 

And  with  that  word  he  gan  to  waxen  red, 
And  in  his  speche  a  litel  wight  he  quook, 
And  caste  asyde  a  litel  wight  his  hed, 
And  stynte  a  while;  and  afterwards  he  wook, 
And  sobreliche  on  hire  he  threw  his  look. 

Chaucer 


%  77  * 


THE  TH1HG  CALLED  LOVE 


GALLANTRY  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY 

STYLE 

When  first  in  Celia's  ear  I  poured 

A  yet  unpractised  prayer, 
My  trembling  tongue  sincere  ignored 

The  aids  of  "sweet"  and  "fair." 
I  only  said  as  in  me  lay, 

Fd  strive  her  worth  to  reach; 
She  frowned,  and  turned  her  eyes  away, — 

So  much  for  truth  in  speech. 

Then  Delia  came.  I  changed  my  plan. 

I  praised  her  to  her  face; 
I  praised  her  features, — praised  her  fan, 

Her  lap'dog  and  her  lace; 
I  swore  that  not  till  Time  were  dead 

My  passion  should  decay; 
She,  smiling,  gave  her  hand,  and  said 

"  'Twill  last,  then, — for  a  day." 

Austin  Dobson 

What  we  find  the  least  of  in  flirtation,  is  love. 

La  Rochefoucauld 

'Tis  sweet  to  think  that  wher'er  we  rove, 
We  are  sure  to  find  something  blissful  and  dear; 
And  that  when  we  are  far  from  the  lips  we  love, 
WeVe  but  to  make  love  to  the  lips  that  are  near. 

Tom  Moore 

%  78  # 


FLIRTIXG-WITH  THE  DICTIONARY 

III.  FLIRT:  To  flit  continually  from  one  object 
to  another. 

T^ew  English  Dictionary 

Formed  for  flying,  Love  plumes  his  wing. 

Byron 

Since  'tis  Nature's  law  to  change, 
Constancy  alone  is  strange. 

Earl  of  Rochester 

One  should  always  be  in  love.  That  is  the 
reason  one  should  never  marry. 

Oscar  Wilde 

SAFETY  FIRST 

Spencer — Are  you — married  at  present? 

Rosalie — Why,  Mr.  Wells,  are  you? 

Spencer — Oh,  no!  I  never  marry! 

Rosalie — Oh,  so  many  married  men  have  said 
they'd  never  marry  1 

Spencer — Yes,  but  I've  got  a  system.  I  never 
propose  to  ladies  who  could  possibly  accept  me. 
I  like  to  love  hopelessly — and  often — and  often. 

Salisbury  Field 

Love  a  la  Don  Juan  is  a  sentiment  of  the  same 
kind  as  a  taste  for  hunting.  It  is  a  desire  for  ac 
tivity  which  must  be  kept  alive  by  divers  ob' 
jects,  and  by  putting  a  man's  talents  continually 
to  the  test. 

Stendhal 

#  79  # 


THE  THING  CALLED  LOVE 


THE   PROMISED  LAND 

Priola — Does  the  traveller  who  has  spent  two 
pleasant  days  in  a  city  unknown  to  him  the  day 
before,  settle  there  for  life?  No,  he  moves  on  the 
third  day  to  see  new  lands. 

Mme.  de  Valery — Which  frequently  don't 
measure  up  to  the  old. 

Priola — No  matter.  He  moves  on.  He 
changes.  Love  which  never  changes  is  stupid. 
Each  new  woman  whom,  like  you,  I  covet  and 
admire,  is  to  me  a  Promised  Land. 

Mme.  de  Valery — Into  which  you  are  not 
allowed  to  enter? 

Priola — You  are  wrong.  When  I  am  in  that 
state  of  wartlike  fever  into  which  the  intoxica' 
tion  of  Beauty  throws  me,  I  see  only  my  goal, 
my  future  captive.  She  is  there  before  me,  smil' 
ing  and  defiant.  Cost  what  it  may,  she  must 
belong  to  me.  Lavedan 

Are  women  books?  says  Hodge,  then  would 

mine  were 
An  Almanack,  to  change  her  every  year. 

Benjamin  Franltfin 

THE   CONSTANCY   OF  THE 
INCONSTANT 

Anatol — This  is  how  Fm  true  to  them — 
to  all  the  women  I  have  ever  loved.  I  never 

$  80  # 


FLIRTIHG-WITH  THE  DICTIOKART 

forget  a  single  one.  I  have  only  to  turn  over  these 
letters  and  dead  flowers  and  locks  of  hair,  and 
back  they  come  to  me;  I'm  in  love  with  them  all 
again.  IVe  often  wished  there  were  some  Abra- 
cadabra  which  would  really  call  them  back  out 
of  the  utter  nothingness.  If  I  knew  of  a  word! 

Max — Let's  think  of  one.  What  about — 
"My  Only  Love"? 

Anatol — Yes:  "My  Only  Love"!  And 
they'd  all  come,  one  from  a  little  suburban  villa, 
— one  from  her  crowded  drawing-room, — one 
from  her  dressing-room  at  the  theatre,  

Max — Several  from  their  dressing-rooms  at 
the  theatre  

Anatol — Several. — One  from  a  shop,  

Max — One  from  your  successor's  arms. 

Anatol — One  from  the  grave, — one  from 
here,  one  from  there, — here  they  all  are! 

Max — Would  you  mind  not  speaking  the 
word?  I  somehow  don't  think  they'd  be  pleasant 
company.  I  daresay  they  are  not  in  love  with 
you  still,  but  I'm  pretty  sure  they're  still  jealous 
of  each  other. 

Anatol — Wise  man. — Let  the  phantoms 
rest. 

Schnitzler 

IV.  FLIRT:  (English  word.)  Conversation 
between  a  man  and  woman  of  the  world,  in  which 

#  81  & 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 


the  words  play  around  the  ideas  of  love  and 
coquetry;  amorous  tactics. 

Larousses  French  Dictionary 

The  conversation  of  beautiful  and  well'bred 
women  is  for  me  a  sweet  commerce.  But  'tis  a 
commerce  wherein  a  man  must  stand  a  little  on 
his  guard,  especially  those  of  a  warm  tempera' 
ment  like  mine. 

Montaigne 

CONVERSATION   WITHOUT  WORDS 

There  were  two  of  us  in  the  compartment:  a 
young  officer  with  a  tiny  moustache  and  a  young 
pretty  woman.  That  was  I.  It  happened  so  long 
ago  that  I  am  safe  in  referring  to  her  as  a  pretty 
woman. 

Before  long,  things  began  to  happen.  The  lieu' 
tenant  moved  to  the  seat  opposite  me,  from 
which  he  was  able  to  study  me  the  better.  He 
had  very  expressive  eyes,  and  when  first  I 
looked  at  them  they  were  raised  to  me  question' 
ingly,  as  if  to  say:  "Dear  lady,  will  you  permit 
me  to  look  at  you?"  I  have  never  seen  eyes  that 
could  plead  so  eloquently.  "See  with  what  re' 
spectful  admiration  I  regard  you !  Can't  you  tell 
that  you  have  kindled  my  impressionable  sol' 
dier's  heart  into  flame?  Have  pity  on  me." 

I  laid  my  newspaper  aside.  With  that  gesture 
*  82  # 


FLIRTIHG-WITH  THE  DICTIONARY 


I  indicated  that  I  was  willing  to  let  the  flirtation 
begin.  It  was  as  if  I  had  said:  "There,  the  screen 
which  separated  us  is  removed,  and  now,  eye  to 
eye."  He  answered  with  a  look  of  gratitude,  and 
an  unspoken  promise  in  his  eyes  assured  me: 
"I  shall  not  forget  what  a  gentleman  owes  a  lady 
in  a  situation  like  this.  I  shall  not  address  you; 
only  my  eyes  shall  speak  for  me."  I  thanked  him 
with  a  glance. 

For  a  long  time  he  looked  at  me  dreamily, 
modestly,  respectfully.  He  seemed  to  be  studying 
my  face  with  touching  reverence.  Then  he  stared 
at  my  hands,  as  if  to  say:  "What  delicate  white 
hands !"  Then  he  looked  at  my  feet.  In  that  quiet, 
detached  way  men  have  of  looking  at  things 
which  don't  belong  to  them.  For  a  long  time  he 
studied  me  like  that  from  head  to  foot. 

— What  did  your  eyes  answer? 

They  answered,  "Ah!"  A  languid,  pleased 
"Ah !"  with  a  tinge  of  reproach  in  it, — the  sort 
of  "Ah!"  we  utter  when  a  man  takes  us  firmly 
in  his  arms.  I  didn't  say  it;  I  looked  it. 

He  didn't  misunderstand.  Only  his  eyes  grew 
sad  and  intent,  as  if  to  say:  "Isn't  it  a  pity?  We 
two  are  so  ideally  suited  to  each  other.  We  can 
understand  each  other's  very  glances.  And  yet 
we  must  always  remain  strangers."  He  sighed 
and  bade  me  farewell. — With  his  eyes.  With  his 
eyes  he  pressed  a  pure  and  tender  kiss  upon  my 
*  83  ^ 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

brow.  He  shook  his  head  sadly,  and  his  eyes  said: 
"Nevermore — nevermore."  By  that  time  the 
train  had  reached  Agram,  and  he  got  off. 

It  was  the  most  charmingly  poetic  tete4'tete 
I  have  ever  had. 

Molnar 

tactics:  reconnaissance  and 
strategic  retirement 

The  glance  is  the  great  weapon  of  virtuous 
coquetry.  With  a  glance  one  may  say  everything, 
and  yet  one  can  always  deny  the  glance,  for  it 
cannot  be  repeated  textually. 

Stendhal 

BARRAGE 

It  was  so  much  gained  for  her  that  she  had 
him  started  off  on  abstractions,  that  he  was  dis' 
coursing  on  truth  in  personal  relations,  on  duty, 
and  the  sacredness  of  love  and  marriage.  It  is 
well  known  that  these  abstract  propositions 
serve  admirably  as  a  beginning,  a  starting-point. 

Turgeniev 

AMBUSH 

The  lady  attended  me  as  if  she  expected  me 
to  go  on. 

"Consider  then,  madam,11  continued  I,  laying 
my  hand  upon  hers,  "that  grave  people  hate  love 
for  its  name's  sake,  that  selfish  people  hate  it 
$  84  $ 


FLIRTITiG-WITH  THE  DICTIONARY 


for  their  own,  hypocrites  for  heaven's,  and  that 
all  of  us,  being  ten  times  worse  frightened  than 
hurt  by  the  very  report, — what  a  want  of  knowl' 
edge  in  this  branch  of  commerce  a  man  betrays 
whoever  lets  a  word  come  out  of  his  lips  till 
an  hour  or  two  at  least  after  the  time  that  his 
silence  upon  it  has  become  tormenting !  A  course 
of  small  quiet  attentions,  not  so  pointed  as  to 
alarm — nor  so  vague  as  to  be  misunderstood; — 
with  now  and  then  a  look  of  kindness,  and  little 
or  nothing  said  upon  it, — leaves  Nature  for  our 
mistress,  and  she  fashions  it  to  her  mind." 

"Then  I  solemnly  declare,"  said  the  lady, 
blushing,  "you  have  been  making  love  to  me  all 
this  while." 

Sterne 

SKIRMISH 

"I  have  broken  two  engagements  for  you  to* 
day.  How  many  have  you  broken  for  me?" 

"None,'1  said  Selden  calmly.  "My  only  en' 
gagement  at  Bellomont  was  with  you.1' 

She  glanced  down  at  him,  faintly  smiling. 
"Did  you  really  come  to  Bellomont  to  see  me?" 

"Of  course  I  did." 

Her  look  deepened  meditatively.  "Why?"  she 
murmured. 

"Because  you're  such  a  wonderful  spectacle: 
I  always  like  to  see  what  you  are  doing." 
*  85  £ 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

"How  do  you  know  what  I  should  be  doing 
if  you  were  not  here?" 

Selden  smiled.  "I  don't  flatter  myself  that  my 
coming  has  deflected  your  course  of  action  by  a 
hair's  breadth. " 

"That's  absurd — since  if  you  were  not  here  I 
could  obviously  not  be  taking  a  walk  with  you." 

"No;  but  your  taking  a  walk  with  me  is  only 
another  way  of  making  use  of  your  material. 
You  are  an  artist,  and  I  happen  to  be  the  bit 
of  colour  you  are  using  to-day.  It's  a  part  of  your 
cleverness  to  be  able  to  produce  premeditated 
effects  extemporaneously." 

She  took  up  his  charge  with  a  touch  of  re' 
sentment.  "I  don't  know,"  she  said,  "why  you 
are  always  accusing  me  of  premeditation.  You 
must  find  me  a  dismal  kind  of  person  if  you  sup' 
pose  that  I  never  yield  to  an  impulse." 

"Ah,  but  I  don't  suppose  that:  haven't  I  told 
you  that  your  genius  lies  in  converting  impulses 
into  intentions?" 

Edith  Wharton 
HAND'TO'HAND  COMBAT 

Romeo — If  I  profane  with  my  unworthiest 
hand 

This  holy  shrine,  the  gentle  fine  is  this: 
My  lips,  two  blushing  pilgrims,  ready  stand 
To  smooth  that  rough  touch  with  a  tender  kiss. 

$  86  % 


FLIRTIHG-WITH  THE  DICTIOHA  R  T 

Juliet — Good  pilgrim,  you  do  wrong  your 
hand  too  much, 
Which  mannerly  devotion  shows  in  this; 
For  saints  have  hands  that  pilgrims'  hands  do 
touch, 

And  palm  to  palm  is  holy  palmers'  kiss. 

Romeo — Have  not  saints  lips,  and  holy  palm' 
ers  too? 

Juliet — Ay,  pilgrim,  lips  that  they  must  use 
in  prayer. 

Romeo — O,  then,  dear  saint,  let  lips  do  what 
hands  do; 

They  pray;  grant  thou,  lest  faith  turn  to  despair. 
Juliet — Saints  do  not  move,  though  grant  for 

prayers'  sake. 
Romeo — Then  move  not,  while  my  prayers' 
effect  I  take.  (Kisses  her.) 
Thus  from  my  lips  by  thine,  my  sin  is  purged. 
Juliet — Then  have  my  lips  the  sin  that  they 
have  took. 

Romeo — Sin  from  my  lips?  O  trespass  sweetly 
urged ! 
Give  me  my  sin  again. 

Sha\espeare 

HEAVY  SIEGE 

"Why  should  we  two  wait  to  be  introduced?' ? 
he  said.  "We  know  one  another.  I  am  Alvan. 
You  are  she  of  whom  I  have  heard  from  Kollin: 
*  87  # 


THE  THING  CALLED  LOVE 

who  else?  Lucretia,  the  gold-haired;  the  gold' 
crested  serpent,  wise  as  her  sire;  Aurora  breaking 
the  clouds;  in  short,  Clotilde. — You  are  aware 
that  I  hoped  to  meet  you?" 

"Is  there  a  periodical  advertisement  of  your 
hopes? — or  do  they  come  to  us  by  intuition?11 

"Kollin  was  right!  The  ways  of  the  serpent 
will  be  serpentine.  I  knew  we  must  meet.  It  is 
no  true  day  so  long  as  the  goddess  of  the  morning 
and  the  sun-god  are  kept  asunder.  I  speak  of 
myself  by  what  I  have  felt  since  I  heard  you." 

"You  are  sure  of  your  divinity?" 

"Through  my  belief  in  yours." 

They  bowed,  smiling  at  the  courtly  exchanges. 

"And  tell  me,"  said  he,  "as  to  meeting 
me  ?" 

She  replied :  "When  we  are  so  like  the  rest  of 
the  world,  we  may  confess  our  weakness." 

"Unlike!  For  the  world  and  I  meet  to  part: 
not  we  two." 

Clotilde  attempted  an  answer:  it  would  not 
come.  She  tried  to  be  offended  by  his  lordly  tone, 
and  found  it  strangely  inoffensive.  His  lording 
presence  and  the  smile  that  was  like  a  waving 
feather  on  it,  compelled  her  so  strongly  to  submit 
and  hear,  as  to  put  her  in  danger  of  seeming  to 
embrace  this  man's  rapid  advances. 

"You  leave  it  to  me  to  talk." 

"Could  I  do  better?" 

*  88  * 


FLIRTIHG-WITH  THE  DICTIONARY 

"You  listen  sweetly." 

"It  is  because  I  like  to  hear." 

"You  have  the  pearly  little  ear  of  a  shell  on 
the  sand.' ' 

"With  the  great  sea  sounding  near." 

Alvan  drew  closer  to  her.  "What  if  I  make  a 
comparison  of  you  with  Paris? — the  city  of  Paris, 
Lucretia." 

"Could  you  make  it  good?" 

He  laughed  and  postponed  it  for  a  series  of 
skimming  discussions,  like  swallow'flights  from 
the  nest  under  the  eaves  to  the  surface  of  the 
stream,  perpetually  reverting  to  her,  and  pre 
voking  spirited  replies,  leading  her  to  fly  with 
him  in  expectation  of  a  crowning  compliment 
that  must  be  singular  and  was  evidently  gather' 
ing  confirmation  in  his  mind  from  the  touchings 
and  probings  of  her  character  on  these  flights. 

She  was  like  a  lady  danced  .off  her  sense  of 
fixity,  to  whom  the  appearance  of  her  whirling 
figure  in  the  mirror  is  both  wonderful  and  reas' 
suring;  and  she  liked  to  be  discussed,  to  be  com' 
pared  with  anything,  for  the  sake  of  being  the 
subject,  so  as  to  be  sure  it  was  she  that  listened 
to  a  man  that  was  a  stranger,  claiming  her  for  his 
own;  sure  it  was  she  that,  by  not  breaking  from 
him,  implied  consent;  she  that  went  speeding 
in  this  magical  rapid  round  which  slung  her 
more  and  more  out  of  her  actual  into  her  imag' 
*  89  & 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

ined  self,  compelled  her  to  proceed,  denied  her 
the  right  to  faint  and  call  the  world  for  aid  and 
catch  at  it,  though  it  was  close  by  and  at  a  signal 
would  stop  the  terrible  circling. 

The  world  was  close  by  and  had  begun  to 
stare. 

Meredith 

V.  FLIRT ATIOH:  A  relation  or  mood  estab- 
lished between  a  woman  and  the  man  who  is 
ma\ing  love  to  her.  It  is  vaguely  delicious  and 
dangerously  progressive  from  innocence  to  guilt, 
but  presumptively  terminable  at  any  of  the  inter- 
mediate stages. 

Paul  Hervieu,  in  Larousse's  French  Dictionary 

Gervase — Just  you  and  I — together — on  the 
top  of  the  world  like  this. 

Melisande — Yes,  that's  what  I  feel  too. 

A.  A.  Milne 

How  many  very  wantonly  pleasant  sports 
spring  from  the  most  decent  and  modest  lan' 
guage  on  love! 

Montaigne 

Flirting  is  the  virtuous  woman  's  way  of  being 
sinful — and  the  sinful  woman's  way  of  being 
virtuous. 

Bourget 


*  90  # 


FLIRTITiG-WITH  THE  DICTIONARY 

To  flirt  is  to  nibble  hors-d'oeuvres  instead  of 
making  a  full  meal. 

Cairon 

Flirtation  is  the  hypocrisy  of  the  senses. 

Schnitzler 

THE   DO  WNRIGHTNESS   OF   A  KING 

King  Henry — I  know  no  ways  to  mince  it  in 
love,  but  directly  to  say,  "I  love  you":  then  if 
you  urge  me,  farther  than  to  say:  "Do  you,  in 
faith?" — I  wear  out  my  suit.  ...  I  cannot  look 
greenly  nor  gasp  out  my  eloquence,  nor  have  I 
no  cunning  in  protestation.  .  .  .  Dear  Kate,  take 
a  fellow  of  plain  and  uncoined  constancy;  for  he 
perforce  must  do  thee  right,  because  he  hath  not 
the  gift  to  woo  in  other  places;  for  those  fellows 
of  infinite  tongue,  that  can  rhyme  themselves 
into  ladies'  favours,  they  do  always  reason 
themselves  out  again. 

Sha\espeare 


*  91  * 


WOMEN  IN  LOVE 


V 


VI 


WOMEN   IN  LOVE 


THE   FINE  GENTLEMAN 


"Certainly,  he  is  not  like  Mr.  Knightley. 
He  has  not  such  a  fine  air  and  way  of  talking  as 
Mr.  Knightley.  I  see  the  difference  plain  enough. 
But  Mr.  Knightley  is  so  very  fine  a  man." 

"Mr.  Knightley 's  air  is  so  remarkably  good 
that  it  is  not  fair  to  compare  Mr.  Martin  with 
him.  You  might  not  see  one  in  a  hundred,  with 
gentleman  so  plainly  written  as  in  Mr.  Knight' 


THE  HANDSOME  TRAITOR 

One  of  those  spectators  was  Tito  Melema. 
Bright  in  the  midst  of  brightness,  he  sat  in  the 
window  of  the  room  above  Nello's  shop,  his 
right  elbow  resting  on  the  red  drapery  hanging 
from  the  window-sill,  and  his  head  supported  in 
a  backward  position  by  his  right  hand,  which 
pressed  the  curls  against  his  ear.  His  face  wore 
that  bland  liveliness,  as  far  removed  from  excit- 


ley." 


Jane  Austen 


*  95  * 


THE  mmG  CALLED  LOVE 

ability  as  from  heaviness  or  gloom,  which  marks 
the  companion  popular  alike  among  men  and 
women — the  companion  who  is  never  obstrusive 
or  noisy  from  uneasy  vanity  or  excessive  animal 
spirits,  and  whose  brow  is  never  contracted  by 
resentment  or  indignation. 

George  Eliot 

A   LORD   OF  CREATION 

Reginald  was  a  perfect  model  of  manly  beauty, 
and  seemed  in  his  person  to  have  realised  all 
that  Grecian  sculpture  had  imagined  of  faultless 
form  and  feature. ...  He  had  good  feelings,  great 
sensibility,  and  ardent,  romantic  imagination, 
and  a  high-spirited  scorn  of  everything  mean  and 
base;  and  although  he  was  at  the  same  time  head- 
strong, self-willed,  and  impetuous,  the  slave  of 
impulse  and  the  sport  of  passion,  yet,  as  his  im- 
pulse  often  led  him  to  what  was  good,  and  his 
passion  was  a  mere  gust,  these  in  early  life 
showed  scarcely  as  defects,  but  seemed  merely 
the  natural  exuberance  of  youthful  blood  and 
unchecked  spirits. 

Susan  Ferrier 

THE  YOUNG  ARTIST 

Valerio  was  the  handsomest  fellow  in  Venice. 
He  was  not  so  tall,  but  better  proportioned  and 
more  robust  than  his  brother.  His  fine  face  ex' 

#  96  % 


WOMEH  I7i  LOVE 

pressed  at  a  first  glance  only  good  nature,  cour' 
age  and  frankness.  It  required  some  attention  to 
discover  in  his  great  blue  eyes  the  sacred  fire 
that  slumbered  there,  often  under  a  shade  of 
quiet  indifference,  whose  lustre,  although  not 
altered,  was  at  least  veiled,  by  a  slight  expression 
of  fatigue.  This  half-pallor  ennobled  his  beauty, 
and  tempered  the  serene  audacity  of  his  look. 

George  Sand 

AN    INTELLECTUAL   MAN    OF  AFFAIRS 

He  stood  beside  the  window,  with  his  hands 
on  his  sides,  moodily  looking  out.  Thus  strongly 
defined  against  the  sunset  light,  he  would  have 
impressed  himself  on  a  stranger  as  a  man  no 
longer  in  his  first  youth,  extraordinarily  hand' 
some  so  far  as  the  head  was  concerned,  but  of  a- 
somewhat  irregular  and  stunted  figure;  stunted, 
however,  only  in  comparison  with  what  it  had 
to  carry;  for  in  fact  he  was  of  about  middle  height. 
But  the  head,  face,  and  shoulders  were  all  re- 
markably  large  and  powerful;  the  colouring — 
curly,  black  hair,  grey  eyes,  dark  complexion — 
singularly  vivid;  and  the  lines  of  the  brow,  the 
long  nose,  the  energetic  mouth,  in  their  mingled 
force  and  perfection,  had  made  the  stimulus  of 
many  an  artist  before  now. 

Mrs.  Humphry  Ward 

*  97  *■ 


THE  THIKG  CALLED  LOVE 


"what  every  woman  wants''' 

Most  true  is  it  that  "beauty  is  in  the  eye  of 
the  gaser."  My  master's  colourless,  olive  face, 
square,  massive  brow,  broad  and  jetty  eyebrows, 
deep  eyes,  strong  features,  firm,  grim  mouth — 
all  energy,  decision,  will — were  not  beautiful, 
according  to  rule;  but  they  were  more  than  beau- 
tiful to  me:  they  were  full  of  an  interest,  an  in- 
fluence that  quite  mastered  me — that  took  my 
feelings  from  my  own  power  and  fettered  them 
in  his.  I  had  not  intended  to  love  him:  the  reader 
knows  I  had  wrought  hard  to  extirpate  from  my 
soul  the  germs  of  love  there  detected;  and  now, 
at  the  first  renewed  view  of  him,  they  sponta- 
neously revived,  green  and  strong!  He  made  me 
love  him  without  looking  at  me. 

Charlotte  Bronte 

DISTINCTION 

If  she  looked  up  she  would  see  him. 

She  knew  what  she  would  see :  the  fine,  cross 
upper-lip  lifted  backwards  by  the  moustache, 
the  small  grilled  brown  moustache,  turned  up, 
that  made  it  look  crosser.  The  narrow,  pensive 
lower  lip,  thrust  out  by  its  light  jaw.  His  nose — 
quite  a  young  nose — that  wouldn't  be  Roman, 
wouldn't  be  Sutcliffe;  it  looked  out  over  your 
head,  tilted  itself  up  to  sniff  the  world,  obstinate, 
$  98  $ 


WOMEH  IH  LOVE 

alert.  His  eyes,  young  too,  bright  and  dark, 
sheltered,  safe  from  age  under  the  low  straight 
eyebrows.  They  would  never  have  shaggy, 
wrinkled  sagging  lids.  Dark-brown  hair,  grey 
above  his  ears,  clipped  close  to  stop  its  curling 
like  his  uncle's.  He  liked  to  go  clipped  and  clean. 
You  felt  that  he  liked  his  own  tall,  straight 
slenderness.  «.  ,  . 

May  Sinclair 


THE   ROMANTIC  VIOLINIST 

As  he  leaned  upon  the  table,  one  slight,  long, 
brown  hand  propping  his  head,  and  half  lost  in 
the  thick,  fine,  brown  hair  which  waved  in  large, 
ample  waves  over  his  head,  there  was  an  inde- 
scribable  grace,  ease,  and  negligent  beauty  in 
the  attitude.  Move  as  he  would,  let  him  assume 
any  position  or  impossible  attitude,  there  was 
still  the  same  grace,  half  careless,  yet  very  digni' 
fled,  in  the  position  he  took. 

All  his  lines  were  lines  of  beauty,  but  beauty 
which  had  power  and  much  masculine  strength; 
nowhere  did  it  degenerate  into  fiaccidity,  no- 
where lose  strength  in  grace.  .  .  .  Broad-shoul- 
dered, long-armed,  with  a  physique  in  every  re- 
spect splendid,  he  was  yet  very  distinctly 
removed  from  the  mere  handsome  animal  which 
I  believe  enjoys  a  distinguished  popularity  in  the 

latter-day  romance.  T    .  „  -  .„ 

'  Jessie  rothergill 

*  99  * 


THE  THlTiG  CALLED  LOVE 


WANTED  A   SILENT  PARTNER 

Tom  Beatup  attracted  her  strongly.  He  was 
much  her  own  type — slow,  ruminative,  patient 
as  the  beasts  he  tended — yet  she  saw  him  as  a 
being  altogether  more  helpless  than  herself,  one 
less  able  to  think  and  plan,  one  whom  she  could 
"manage1 1  tenderly.  He  was  not  so  practical  as 
she,  and  more  in  need  of  affection,  of  which  he 
got  less.  Thyrsa  sometimes  pictured  his  round 
dark  head  upon  her  breast,  her  arm  about  him, 
holding  him  there  in  the  crook  of  it,  both  lover 
and  child.  .  .  . 

Sheila  Kaye^Smith 
THE   CONQUERING  MALE 

And  against  her  will,  almost  without  con' 
scious  movement,  she  obeyed  him.  The  un, 
tempting  morsel  passed  from  his  hand  to  hers, 
and  under  the  compulsion  of  his  insistence  she 
began  to  eat.  She  felt  as  if  every  mouthful  would 
choke  her,  but  she  persevered,  urged  by  the 
dread  certainty  that  he  would  somehow  have 
his  way. 

. .  .  .There  was,  moreover,  something  comfort' 
ing  in  his  presence,  something  that  vastly  re' 
assured  her,  making  her  lean  upon  him  in  spite  of 
herself. 

....  Presently  he  stopped  again,  and  without 
$  ioo  * 


WOME?i  IH  LOVE 

a  word  lifted  her  in  his  arms.  She  gasped  a  pro 
test  to  which  he  made  no  response.  His  arms 
compassed  her  like  steel,  making  her  feel  helpless 
as  an  infant. 

*       Ethel  M.  Ddl 

CLARA  MILITCH 

"I  am  ready  to  listen  to  you,"  he  began  again, 
"and  shall  be  very  glad  if  I  can  be  of  use  to  you 
in  any  way  .  .  .  though  I  am,  I  confess,  surprised 
.  .  .  considering  the  retired  life  I  lead.  .  . 

At  these  last  words  of  his,  Clara  suddenly 
turned  to  him,  and  he  beheld  such  a  terrified, 
such  a  deeply  wounded  face,  with  such  large 
bright  tears  in  the  eyes,  such  a  pained  expression 
about  the  parted  lips,  and  this  face  was  so  lovely, 
that  he  involuntarily  faltered,  and  himself  felt 
something  akin  to  terror  and  pity  and  softening. 

"Ah,  why  .  .  .  why  are  you  like  that?"  she 
said,  with  an  irresistibly  genuine  and  truthful 
force,  and  how  movingly  her  voice  rang  out! 
"Could  my  turning  to  you  be  offensive  to  you? 
...  is  it  possible  you  have  understood  nothing? 
.  .  .  Ah,  yes !  you  have  understood  nothing,  you 
did  not  understand  what  I  said  to  you,  God 
knows  what  you  have  been  imagining  about  me, 
you  have  not  even  dreamed  what  it  cost  me — 
to  write  to  you ! .  .  .  You  thought  of  nothing  but 
yourself,  your  own  dignity,  your  peace  of  mind ! 
$  ioi  % 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

. . .  But  is  it  likely  I . . ."  (she  squeezed  her  hands 
raised  to  her  lips  so  hard,  that  the  fingers  gave  a 
distinct  crack)  .  .  .  "As  though  I  made  any  sort 
of  demands  of  you,  as  though  explanations  were 
necessary  first .  .  .  'My  dear  madam,  ...  I  am, 
I  confess,  surprised  ...  if  I  can  be  of  any  use1 
.  .  .  Ah!  I  am  mad! — I  was  mistaken  in  you — in 
your  face! . . .  when  I  saw  you  the  first  time  . . .  ! 

Here  .  . .  you  stand  If  only  one  word.  What, 

not  one  word?" 

Turgeniev 

CATHERINE 

"I  love  him  more  than  ever  you  loved  Edgar" 
— said  the  infatuated  girl, — "and  he  might  love 
me  if  you  would  let  him!" 

"I  wouldn't  be  you  for  a  kingdom,  then!" 
Catherine  declared  emphatically — and  she 
seemed  to  speak  sincerely.  "Nelly,  help  me  to 
convince  her  of  her  madness.  Tell  her  what 
Heathcliff  is — an  unreclaimed  creature,  without 
refinement — without  cultivation;  an  arid  wilder' 
ness  of  furze  and  whinstone.  I'd  as  soon  put  that 
little  canary  into  the  park  on  a  winter's  day  as 
recommend  you  to  bestow  your  heart  on  him! 
It  is  deplorable  ignorance  of  his  character,  child, 
and  nothing  else,  which  makes  that  dream  enter 
your  head.  Pray  don't  imagine  that  he  conceals 
depths  of  benevolence  and  affection  beneath  a 
v  $  102  $ 


WOMEK  IK  LOVE 

stern  exterior!  He's  not  a  rough  diamond — a 
pearl'Containing  oyster  of  a  rustic;  he's  a  fierce, 
pitiless,  wolfish  man.  I  never  say  to  him,  Let  this 
or  that  enemy  alone,  because  it.  would  be  un- 
generous or  cruel  to  harm  them.  I  say,  Let  them 
alone,  because  I  should  hate  them  to  be  wronged : 
and  he'd  crush  you,  like  a  sparrow's  egg,  Isa- 
bella,  if  he  found  you  a  troublesome  charge.  I 
know  he  couldn't  love  a  Linton :  and  yet,  he'd  be 
quite  capable  of  marrying  your  fortune  and  ex' 
pectations.  Avarice  is  growing  with  him  a  be 
setting  sin.  There's  my  picture:  and  I'm  his 
friend — so  much  so  that  had  he  thought  seriously 
to  catch  you,  I  should,  perhaps,  have  held  my 
tongue,  and  let  you  fall  into  this  trap." 

Emily  Bronte 

"advice  to  a  schoolboy" 

Love  in  women  (at  least)  is  either  vanity,  or 
interest,  or  fancy.  It  is  a  merely  selfish  feeling. 
It  has  nothing  to  do  (I  am  sorry  to  say)  with 
friendship,  or  esteem,  or  even  pity.  I  once  asked 
a  girl,  the  pattern  of  her  sex  in  shape  and  mind 
and  attractions,  whether  she  did  not  think  Mr. 
Coleridge  had  done  wrong  in  making  the  heroine 
of  his  beautiful  ballad  story  of  "Genevieve"  take 
compassion  on  her  hapless  lover — 

"When  on  the  yellow  forest  leaves 

A  dying  man  he  lay  " 

*  103  * 


THE  TH1KG  CALLED  LOVE 

And  whether  she  believed  that  any  woman  ever 
fell  in  love  through  a  sense  of  compassion;  and 
she  made  answer — "Not  if  it  was  against  her 
inclination !"  I  would  take  the  lady's  word  for  a 
thousand  pound,  on  this  point. 

William  Hazlitt 

JEUNE  FILLE 

A  young  girl's  love  is  a  kind  of  piety.  We  must 
approach  it  with  adoration  if  we  are  not  to  pre 
fane  it,  and  with  poetry  if  we  are  to  understand 
it.  If  there  is  anything  in  the  world  which  gives 
us  a  sweet,  ineffable  impression  of  the  ideal,  it  is 
this  trembling  modest  love.  To  deceive  it  would 
be  a  crime.  Merely  to  watch  its  unfolding  life  is 
bliss  to  the  beholder;  he  sees  in  it  the  birth  of  a 
divine  marvel. 

Amid 

EGO 

Women  wish  to  be  loved  without  a  why  or  a 
wherefore;  not  because  they  are  pretty,  or  good, 
or  well  bred,  or  graceful,  or  intelligent,  but  be' 
cause  they  are  themselves.  All  analysis  seems  to 
them  to  imply  a  loss  of  consideration,  a  subop 
dination  of  their  personality  to  something  which 
dominates  and  measures  it.  They  will  have  none 
of  it;  and  their  instinct  is  just  .  .  .  Love  must 
always  remain  a  fascination,  a  witchery,  if  the 

%  104  5fc 


WOMEH  IH  LOVE 

empire  of  woman  is  to  endure.  Once  the  mystery 
gone,  the  power  goes  with  it.  Love  must  always 
seem  to  us  indivisible,  insoluble,  superior  to  all 
analysis,  if  it  is  to  preserve  that  appearance  of 
infinity,  of  something  supernatural  and  miraai' 
lous,  which  makes  its  chief  beauty.  .  .  .  The 
feminine  triumph  par  excellence  is  to  convict  of 
obscurity  that  virile  intelligence  which  makes 
so  much  pretence  to  enlightenment.  And  when  a 
woman  inspires  love,  it  is  then  especially  that 
she  enjoys  this  proud  triumph.  I  admit  that  her 
exultation  has  its  grounds.  Still,  it  seems  to  me 
that  love — true  and  profound  love — should  be  a 
source  of  light  and  calm,  a  religion  and  a  reveta' 
tion,  in  which  there  is  no  place  left  for  the  lower 
victories  of  vanity. 

Amid 


*  105  & 


SOME  LOVE  LETTERS 


SOME   LOVE  LETTERS 

PROSPER  MERIMEE  TO 
JENNY  DAQUIN 

Contrary  to  my  usual  habit,  I  have  no  distinct 
recollection  of  that  day,  but  am  like  a  cat  who 
licks  his  whiskers  for  a  long  time  after  drinking 
his  milk.  Admit  that  the  peace  of  which  you 
sometimes  speak  with  admiration,  that  the  Kef, 
which  is  superior  even  to  the  best  that  we  know, 
is  as  nothing  in  comparison  to  the  happiness 
"which  is  almost  pain."  Nothing  is  more  insig' 
nificant  than  the  life  of  an  oyster,  especially  of 
an  oyster  which  is  not  eaten.  .  .  . 

Good-bye.  Do  not  have  any  second  thoughts, 
and  give  me  a  place  in  your  first. 

KWEI'LI   TO   HER  HUSBAND 
(A   CHINESE  OFFICIAL) 

Dost  thou  know  what  love  is?  Thou  canst  not 
till  thou  holdest  Love  itself  within  thy  very 
arms.  I  thought  I  loved  thee.  I  smile  now  at  the 
*  109  % 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

remembrance  of  that  feeble  flickering  that  was 
as  like  unto  the  real  love  as  the  faint,  cold  beam 
of  the  candle  is  to  the  rays  of  the  glorious  sun. 
Now — now — thou  art  the  father  of  my  son. 
Thou  hast  a  new  place  in  my  heart.  The  tie  that 
binds  our  hearts  together  is  stronger  than  a  rope 
of  twisted  bamboo;  it  is  a  bond,  a  love  bond, 
that  never  can  be  severed.  I  am  the  mother  of 
thy  first'born — thou  hast  given  me  my  man' 
child.  Love  thee — love  thee! — now  I  \now  / 

I  am 

Thine  Own. 

RICHARD   STEELE  TO 
MARY  SCURLOCK 

Madam, 

It  is  the  hardest  thing  in  the  world  to  be  in 
love  and  yet  attend  to  business.  As  for  me,  all 
who  speak  to  me  find  me  out,  and  I  must  lock 
myself  up  or  other  people  will  do  it  for  me. 

A  gentleman  asked  me  this  morning,  "What 
news  from  Lisbon?"  and  I  answered,  "She  is 
exquisitely  handsome. "  Another  desired  to 
know  when  I  had  been  last  at  Hampton  Court. 
I  replied,  "It  will  be  on  Tuesday  come  se'n  night.11 
Prythee,  allow  me  at  least  to  kiss  your  hand 
before  that  day,  that  my  mind  may  be  in  some 
composure.  O  love! 

"A  thousand  torments  dwell  about  me ! 
Yet  who  would  live  to  live  without  thee?11 
#  no  # 


SOME  LOVE  LETTERS 

Methinks  I  could  write  a  volume  to  you;  but 
all  the  language  on  earth  would  fail  in  saying 
how  much  and  with  what  disinterested  passion 
I  am  ever  yours, 

Rich.  Steele 


BENJAMIN   FRANKLIN  TO 
MADAME  HELVETIUS 

.  .  .  Passy. 

Chagrined  at  your  resolution,  pronounced  so 
decidedly  last  evening,  to  remain  single  for  life, 
in  honour  of  your  dear  husband,  I  went  home, 
fell  upon  my  bed,  thought  myself  dead,  and 
found  myself  in  the  Elysian  Fields. 

They  asked  me  if  I  had  any  desire  to  see  any 
persons  in  particular.  "Lead  me  to  the  philos' 
ophers."  "There  are  two  that  reside  here  in  this 
garden.  They  are  very  good  neighbours  and  very 
friendly  to  each  other."  "Who  are  they?1'  "Soc* 
rates  and  Helveti^s."  "I  esteem  them  both 
prodigiously;  but  let  me  see  Helvetius  first,  be 
cause  I  understand  a  little  French  and  not  a 
word  of  Greek."  He  viewed  me  with  much 
courtesy,  having  known  me,  he  said,  by  reputa' 
tion  for  some  time.  He  asked  me  a  thousand 
things  about  the  war,  and  the  present  state  of 
religion,  liberty,  and  government  in  France. 
"You  ask  me  nothing,  then,  respecting  your 
#  in  # 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

friend  Madame  Helvetius,  and  yet  she  loves  you 
still  excessively;  it  is  but  an  hour  since  I  was  at 
her  house.1'  "Ah!"  said  he,  "you  make  me  recol' 
lect  my  former  felicity;  but  I  ought  to  forget  it 
to  be  happy  here.  For  many  years  I  thought  of 
nothing  but  her.  At  last  I  am  consoled.  I  have 
taken  another  wife,  the  most  like  her  that  I  could 
find.  She  is  not,  it  is  true,  quite  so  handsome; 
but  she  has  as  much  good  sense  and  wit,  and 
loves  me  infinitely.  Her  continued  study  is 
to  please  me;  she  is  at  present  gone  to  look 
for  the  best  nectar  and  ambrosia  to  regale  me 
this  evening;  stay  with  me  and  you  will  see 
her." 

"I  perceive,"  said  I,  "that  your  old  friend  is 
more  faithful  than  you;  for  many  good  matches 
have  been  offered  her,  all  of  which  she  has  re' 
fused.  I  confess  to  you  that  I  loved  her  myself 
to  excess;  but  she  was  severe  to  me,  and  has  ab' 
solutely  refused  me,  for  love  of  you."  "I  com' 
miserate  you,"  said  he,  "for  your  misfortune; 
for  indeed  she  is  a  good  woman,  and  very  amia' 
ble.  But  the  Abbe  de  la  Roche  and  the  Abbe 
Morellet,  are  they  not  still  sometimes  at  her 
house?"  "Yes,  indeed,  for  she  has  not  lost  a  single 
one  of  your  friends."  "If  you  had  gained  over 
the  Abbe  Morellet  with  coffee  and  cream  to 
speak  for  you,  perhaps  you  would  have  sue' 
ceeded,  for  he  is  as  subtle  a  reasoner  as  Scotus  or 

$  112  % 


SOME  LOVE  LETTERS 


St.  Thomas,  and  puts  his  arguments  in  such  good 
order  that  they  become  almost  irresistible:  or  if 
you  had  secured  the  Abbe  de  la  Roche,  by  giving 
him  some  fine  edition  of  an  old  classic,  to  speak 
against  you,  that  would  have  been  better;  for  I 
have  always  observed  that  when  he  advises  any- 
thing, she  has  a  very  strong  inclination  to  do  the 
reverse." 

At  these  words  the  new  Madame  Helvetius 
entered  with  the  nectar;  I  instantly  recognised 
her  as  Mrs.  Franklin,  my  old  American  friend. 
I  reclaimed  her,  but  she  said  to  me  coldly,  "I 
have  been  your  good  wife  forty'nine  years  and 
four  months;  almost  half  a  century;  be  content 
with  that."  Dissatisfied  with  this  refusal  of  my 
Eurydice  I  immediately  resolved  to  quit  those 
ungrateful  shades  and  to  return  to  this  good 
world  to  see  again  the  sun  and  you.  Here  I  am. 
Let  us  avenge  ourselves. 


POPE  TO 

LADY   MARY   WORTLEY  MONTAGU 

After  having  dreamed  of  you  several  nights, 
besides  a  hundred  reveries  by  day,  I  find  it 
necessary  to  relieve  myself  by  writing;  though 
this  is  the  fourth  letter  I  have  sent. 

For  God's  sake,  madam,  let  not  my  correspond' 
ence  be  like  the  traffic  with  the  grave  from 
*  113  £ 


THE  THWG  CALLED  LOVE 

whence  there  is  no  return.  Unless  you  write  to 
me,  my  wishes  must  be  like  a  poor  papist's  devo- 
tions to  separate  spirits,  who,  for  all  they  know 
or  hear  from  them,  either  may  or  may  not  be 
sensible  of  their  addresses. 

None  but  your  guardian  angels  can  have  you 
more  constantly  in  mind  than  I;  and  if  they 
have,  it  is  only  because  they  can  see  you  always. 
If  ever  you  think  of  those  fine  young  beaux  of 
Heaven,  I  beg  you  to  reflect  that  you  have  just 
as  much  consolation  from  them  as  I  have  at 
present  from  you.  .  .  . 

BENJAMIN   CONSTANT  TO 
MADAME  RECAMIER 

September  3rd,  1814. 

To-morrow  evening,  to-morrow  evening? 
What  is  that  evening  to  me?  It  will  commence 
for  me  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning.  To-morrow 
is  to-day.  Thanks  to  God,  yesterday  is  passed. 
I  shall  therefore  be  at  your  door  at  nine  o'clock. 
They  will  tell  me  that  you  are  not  there.  I  shall 
be  there  between  ten  and  eleven;  will  they  still 
tell  me  that  you  are  not  there? 

...  I  seem  mad  to  you,  perhaps;  but  I  see  your 
look,  I  repeat  to  myself  your  words.  ...  I  am 
right  to  be  mad.  I  would  be  mad  not  to  be  so. 
Till  this  evening,  then,  Mon  dieu !  If  you  are 
*  114  % 


SOME  LOVE  LETTERS 


not  the  most  indifferent  of  women,  how  much 
you  will  make  me  suffer  in  my  life!  .  .  .  Once 
again,  till  to-night. 

GEORGE   SAND  TO 
ALFRED   DE  MUSSET 

April  15-l7th,  1834. 
.  .  .  Do  not  believe,  do  not  believe,  Alfred, 
that  I  could  be  happy  with  the  thought  of  having 
lost  your  heart.  That  I  have  been  your  mistress 
or  your  mother,  what  does  it  matter?  That  I 
have  inspired  you  with  love  or  with  friendship 
— that  I  have  been  happy  or  unhappy  with  you, 
all  that  changes  nothing  in  the  state  of  my  mind, 
at  present.  I  know  that  I  love  you  and  that  is  all. 
To  watch  over  you,  to  preserve  you  from  all  ill, 
from  all  contrariety,  to  surround  you  with 
distractions  and  pleasures,  that  is  the  need  and 
the  regret  which  I  feel  since  I  have  lost  you. 
Why  has  so  sweet  a  task  and  one  which  I  should 
have  performed  with  such  joy  become,  little  by 
little,  so  bitter,  and  then,  all  at  once,  impossible? 
How  is  it  that  I,  who  would  have  offered  up  all 
my  blood  to  give  you  a  night's  rest  and  peace, 
have  become  for  you  a  torment,  a  scourge,  a 
spectre?  When  these  atrocious  memories  besiege 
me  (and  at  what  hour  do  they  leave  me  in  peace?) 
I  almost  go  mad. 

*  115  % 


THE  THITiG  CALLED  LOVE 


BALZAC  TO  COUNTESS  HANSKA 

Dresden,  October  21st,  1843. 
If  happiness  for  a  woman  is  to  know  herself 
unique  in  a  heart,  alone,  filling  it  in  an  indispen- 
sable  manner,  sure  to  shine  in  the  intelligence  of 
a  man  as  his  light,  sure  to  be  his  blood,  to  ani' 
mate  each  heart-beat,  to  live  in  his  thought  as 
the  substance  itself  of  that  thought,  and  having 
the  certainty  that  it  would  be  always  and  always 
so;  eh  bien,  dear  sovereign  of  my  soul,  you  can 
call  yourself  happy,  and  happy  senza  brama,  for 
so  I  shall  be  for  you  till  death.  One  can  fe^l 
satiety  for  human  things,  there  is  none  for  divine 
things,  and  this  word  alone  can  explain  what  you 
are  for  me. 

THOMAS  CARLYLE  TO   JANE  WELCH 

Scotsbrig,  12  Aug.,  1826. 

My  darling: 

0  my  good  Jane,  it  is  an  awful  and  delicious 
thought,  this  of  wedlock !  Need  is,  most  pressing 
need,  that  the  heart  you  give  your  own  heart  to, 
be  well  and  seriously  judged  and  found  worthy. 
With  one  whose  integrity  of  soul  you  even 
doubted,  it  were  better  to  die  a  thousand  deaths 
than  to  wed. 

1  swear  it  will  break  my  heart  if  I  make  thee 
unhappy.  And  yet  I  am  a  perverse  mortal  to 

n6  $ 


SOME  LOVE  LETTERS 

deal  with,  and  the  best  resolutions  make  ship' 
wreck  in  the  sea  of  practice.  But  thou  must  be 
a  very  good  wife,  and  I  will  be  a  very  good  hus' 
band. 

JANE   WELCH   TO   THOMAS  CARLYLE 

...  Oh,  my  dearest  friend,  be  always  so  good 
to  me,  and  I  shall  make  the  best  and  happiest 
wife !  When  I  read  in  your  looks  and  words  that 
you  love  me,  then  I  care  not  one  straw  for  the 
whole  universe  besides.  But  when  you  fly  from 
me  to  smoke  tobacco,  or  speak  of  me  as  a  mere 
circumstance  of  your  lot,  then,  indeed,  my  heart 
is  troubled  about  many  things. 

JOHN   KEATS   TO   FANNY  BRAWNE 

. . .  My  love  has  made  me  selfish.  I  cannot  exist 
without  you.  I  am  forgetful  of  everything  but 
seeing  you  again — my  Life  seems  to  stop  there — 
I  see  no  farther.  ...  I  have  been  astonished  that 
Men  could  die  Martyrs  for  religion — I  have 
shuddered  at  it.  I  shudder  no  more — I  could  be 
martyred  for  my  Religion — Love  is  my  religion 
— I  could  die  for  that.  I  could  die  for  you.  My 
Creed  is  Love,  and  you  are  its  only  tenet.  You 
have  ravished  me  away  by  a  Power  I  cannot  re- 
sist; and  yet  I  could  resist  till  I  saw  you;  and 
even  since  I  have  seen  you  I  have  endeavoured 
%  117  # 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

often  to  reason  against  the  reasons  for  my  love. 
I  can  do  that  no  more — the  pain  would  be  too 
great.  My  love  is  selfish.  I  cannot  breathe  with- 
out you. 

PRINCE   BISMARCK  TO 
JOHANNA   VON  PUTTKAMER 

My  Heart,        Schonhausen,  February  7,  '47. 

...  If  I  could  only  dream  of  you  when  you  do 
of  me!  But  recently  I  do  not  dream  at  all — shock' 
ingly  healthy  and  prosaic;  or  does  my  soul  fly 
to  Reinfeld  in  the  night  and  associate  with 
yours?  In  that  case  it  can  certainly  not  dream 
here;  but  it  ought  to  tell  about  its  journey  in  the 
morning,  whereas  the  wayward  thing  is  as  silent 
about  its  nocturnal  employments  as  though  it, 
too,  slept  like  a  badger.  ...  I  love  you,  cest  tout 
dire. 

Bismarc\ 

DANIEL   WEBSTER  TO 
JOSEPHINE  SEATON 

Monday  Morning,  March  4th,  ,44. 
My  dear  Josephine: 

I  fear  you  got  a  wetting  last  evening,  as  it 
rained  fast  soon  after  you  left  our  door;  and  I 
avail  myself  on  the  return  of  your  Bonnet,  to 
express  the  wish  that  you  are  well  this  morning, 
and  without  cold. 

*  n8  # 


SOME  LOVE  LETTERS 

I  have  demanded  parlance  with  your  Bonnet: 
have  asked  it  how  many  tender  looks  it  has  n<y 
ticed  to  be  directed  under  it;  what  soft  words  it 
has  heard,  close  to  its  side;  in  what  instances  an 
air  of  triumph  has  caused  it  to  be  tossed;  and 
whether,  ever,  and  when,  it  has  quivered  from 
trembling  emotions,  proceeding  from  below. 
But  it  has  proved  itself  a  faithful  keeper  of  sc 
crets,  and  would  answer  none  of  my  questions. 
It  only  remained  for  me  to  attempt  to  surprise 
it  into  confession,  by  pronouncing  sundry 
names,  one  after  another.  It  seemed  quite  ihv 
moved  by  most  of  these,  but  at  the  apparently 
unexpected  mention  of  one,  I  thought  its  ribbons 
decidedly  fluttered ! 

I  gave  it  my  parting  good  wishes;  hoping  that 
it  might  never  cover  an  aching  head,  and  that 
the  eyes  which  it  protects  from  the  rays  of  the 
sun,  may  know  no  tears  but  those  of  joy  and 
affection. 

Yours,  dear  Josephine,  with  affectionate  re' 
gard, 

Dad.  Webster 

NATHANIEL   HAWTHORNE  TO 
HIS  WIFE 

I  am  sometimes  driven  to  wish  that  you  and 
I  could  mount  upon  a  cloud  (as  we  used  to  fancy 
in  those  heavenly  walks  of  ours),  and  be  borne 

%  119  * 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

quite  out  of  sight  and  hearing  of  the  world;  for 
now  all  the  people  in  the  world  seem  to  come 
between  us.  How  happy  were  Adam  and  Eve! 
There  was  no  third  person  to  come  between 
them,  and  all  the  infinity  around  them  only 
seemed  to  press  their  hearts  closer  together.  We 
love  one  another  as  well  as  they;  but  there  is  no 
silent  and  lovely  garden  of  Eden  for  us.  Will  you 
sail  away  with  me  to  discover  some  summer 
island?  Do  you  not  think  that  God  has  reserved 
one  for  us,  ever  since  the  beginning  of  the  world? 
Foolish  that  I  am  to  raise  a  question  of  it,  since 
we  have  found  such  an  Eden — such  an  island 
sacred  to  us  two — whenever  we  have  been 
together.  Then  we  are  the  Adam  and  Eve  of  a 
virgin  earth. 

LEON   GAMBETTA  TO   LEONIE  LEON 

Friday  evening,  May  23rd,  1879, 
written  at  the  distance  of  a  ^iss. 
Dear  little  adored  woman, — Hast  thou  ever 
penetrated  to  the  bottom  of  my  soul  as  to'day? 
...  I  am  quite  sure  that  I  have  tO'day  possessed 
the  full  and  entire  essence  of  your  nature.  I  have 
lived  in  your  life  and  not  in  mine.  I  would  lose 
with  pleasure  the  sentiment  of  my  personality 
to  pass  into  yours.  The  dream  is  accomplished, 
the  revelation  is  complete,  I  respire  in  the  a^ure 
which  you  inhabit,  and  it  is  fitting  to  say  again 

$  120  & 


SOME  LOVE  LETTERS 

with  the  prophet-king,  I  feel  as  if  I  were  a  god, 
and  I  am  that,  because  the  property,  the  gift 
of  the  divinity,  is  Love.  It  is  in  you  that  I  lose 
myself  for  all  eternity,  and  I  have  no  further 
desires  beyond  this,  beyond  this  ineffable  com' 
munion.  To  thee,  then,  in  thee  and  for  thee. 

RICHARD   WAGNER  TO 
MATHILDE  WESENDONCK 

January  1,  1859. 

Ah,  I  still  breathe  it,  the  magic  fragrance  of 
those  blooms  thou  pluck'dst  me  from  thy  heart ! 
They  were  not  buds  of  life;  so  smell  the  wonder 
blooms  of  heavenly  death,  of  the  eternal;  so 
decked  they  of  yore  the  hero's  corse,  ere  it  was 
burnt  to  godlike  ashes.  Into  that  grave  of  flames 
and  perfumes  leaped  his  loved  one,  to  mingle 
her  beloved's  ashes  with  her  own — and  they 
were  one!  One  element,  not  two  loving  mortals; 
one  divine  substance  of  eternity. 

Thy  caresses,  they  are  the  crown  of  my  life, 
the  sweet  roses  that  blossomed  from  the  wreath 
of  thorns  wherewith  alone  my  head  was  clad. 
Now  am  I  proud  and  happy!  Not  a  wish,  not  a 
longing!  Delight,  supreme  consciousness, 
strength  and  aptitude  for  everything,  for  every 
storm  of  life! 

Nay!  nay,  repent  them  not!  Repent  them? 
Never ! 

#  121  ^ 


MEN  IN  LOVE  THROUGH 
THE  AGES 


VIII 


MEN   IN   LOVE  THROUGH  THE  AGES 
A   GREEK   HERO  ODYSSEUS 


"I  beseech  thee,  O  queen — art  thou  a  goddess 
or  art  thou  mortal?  If  a  goddess,  one  of  those  who 
hold  broad  heaven,  I  must  liken  thee  to  Artemis, 
daughter  of  great  Zeus,  in  comeliness  and  stature 
and  form.  But  if  thou  art  of  this  earth,  then  thrice 
blessed  are  thy  father  and  thy  honoured  mother, 
and  thriccblessed  thy  brethren.  Full  well,  I 
ween,  are  their  hearts  ever  warmed  with  joy 
because  of  thee,  as  they  see  thee  entering  the 
dance,  a  plant  so  fair.  But  blessed  above  all  others 
is  he  who  shall  prevail  with  wooing'gifts  and 
lead  thee  to  his  home.  For  never  yet  have  mine 
eyes  looked  upon  a  mortal  such  as  thou." 


A   RAJAH   OF  INDIA 

....  And  Ranga  looked  at  her,  and  his  heart 
swelled  in  his  breast;  for  she  touched  it  not  only 

#  125  # 


TO  NAUSICAA 


Homer 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

by  her  beauty  but  by  the  strength  of  her  soul. 
And  he  laughed  for  joy,  and  said:  .  .  .  O  thou 
fair  woman,  thy  loveliness  is  wonderful,  and  yet 
it  is  the  least  part  of  thy  excellence.  Now  thou 
art  worthy  of  one  better  than  I  am.  And  yet,  if 
thou  wilt  give  thyself  to  me  for  a  wife,  I  will  be 
thy  lord  and  thy  protector  in  this  life  and  the 
next,  and  thou  shalt  be  my  divinity  in  human 
form.  And  I  will  want  food  and  clothing,  before 
thou  shalt  want  sweetmeats  and  jewels."  And 
he  stooped  down  and  touched  her  feet,  and  put 
his  hand  on  his  head:  and  then  stood  and  looked 
at  her  with  a  smile.  And  she  looked  at  him  with 
affection,  and  said:  "Thou  art  the  man  whom  I 
have  desired  to  have  for  a  husband,  and  now  I 
see  that  my  dream  was  a  true  one.  And  now  I 
am  thy  wife  and  thy  servant."" 

F.  W.  Bain 


THE   ARAB   OF   A  THOUSAND 
YEARS  AGO 

"When  I  considered"  (quoth  Ibrahim),  "I 
took  leave  of  my  senses  and  wit  and  I  was  dazed 
and  my  thought  was  confounded  for  amazement 
at  the  sight  of  loveliness  whose  like  is  not  on  the 
face  of  the  earth.  So  I  fell  into  a  swoon,  and  com. 
ing  to  myself,  weeping'eyed,  recited  these  two 
couplets: 

*  126  & 


MEH  Hi  LOVE  THROUGH  THE  AGES 

"I  see  thee  and  close  not  mine  eyes  for  fear, 
Lest  their  lids  prevent  me  beholding  thee: 
An  I  gased  with  mine  every  glance,  these  eyne 
Ne'er  could  sight  all  the  loveliness  moulding 
thee." 

The  Thousand  T^ights  and  a  Tiight: 
Sir  Richard  Burton  s  Translation 

AN   IDYLL   OF   TWELFTH  '  CENTURY 
FRANCE:    AUCASSIN    AND  NICOLETTE 

"Fair,  sweet  friend,"  quoth  he,  "thou  shalt 
not  go,  for  then  wouldst  thou  be  my  death. 
And  the  first  man  that  saw  thee  and  had  the 
might  withal,  would  take  thee  straightway  into 
his  bed  to  be  his  leman.  And  once  thou  earnest 
into  a  man's  bed,  and  that  bed  not  mine,  wit  ye 
well  that  I  would  not  tarry  till  I  had  found  a 
knife  to  pierce  my  heart  and  slay  myself.  Nay, 
verily,  wait  so  long  I  would  not;  but  would  hurl 
myself  so  far  as  I  might  see  a  wall,  or  a  black 
stone,  and  I  would  dash  my  head  against  it  so 
mightily  that  the  eyes  would  start  and  the  brain 
burst." 

"Aucassin,"  she  said,  "I  trow  thou  lovest  me 
not  as  much  as  thou  sayest,  but  I  love  thee  more 
than  thou  lovest  me." 

"Ah,  fair,  sweet  friend,"  said  Aucassin,  "it 
may  not  be  that  thou  shouldst  love  me  even  as 
I  love  thee.  Woman  may  not  love  man  as  man 
*  127  % 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 


loves  woman;  for  a  woman's  love  lies  in  her  eye, 
and  the  bud  of  her  breast,  and  her  foot's  tiptoe, 
but  the  love  of  a  man  is  in  his  heart  planted, 
whence  it  can  never  issue  forth  and  pass  away." 

A    GERMAN    MINSTREL   OF  THE 
THIRTEENTH  CENTURY 

She  stirred  a  little,  and  leant  against  him,  and 
the  springs  of  her  heart'sorrow  rose  to  her  lips 
and  weighed  down  her  head. 

Then  Tristan  laid  his  arm  around  her  gently, 
and  spake  softly:  ...  "I  ween,  fair  Iseult,  that 
the  sea  and  the  wind  troubleth  thee;  the  sea  and 
the  salt  wind;  thou  dost  taste  them,  and  they 
are  alike  bitter  to  thee." 

"Nay,  nay,  what  sayest  thou?  I  taste  nor  wind 
nor  sea.  L'Amer  alone  doth  trouble  me."'1 

And  Tristan  whispered:  "Of  a  sooth,  sweet 
heart,  so  doth  it  me.  L'Amer  and  thou,  ye  are 
my  sorrow !  Heart's  lady,  sweet  Iseult,  thou  and 
the  love  of  thee  have  turned  my  heart  aside; 
so  far  have  I  wandered  that  never  more  may  I 
find  the  right  path.  All  that  mine  eyes  behold  is 
but  weariness  and  sorrow,  weakness  of  spirit 
and  heaviness  of  heart;  in  all  the  world  is  there 
naught  that  my  heart  doth  love  save  thee 
only." 

Iseult  spake:  "Even  so  it  is  with  me." 

*  128  $ 


MEH  IK  LOVE  THROUGH  THE  AGES 

So  the  twain  made  their  confession  of  love 
each  to  the  other;  he  kissed  her,  and  she  him;  and 
each  drank  of  the  sweetness  that  the  heart  may 
offer. 

Gottfried  of  Strassburg 


THE   FLOWER   OF  THE 
SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY 

Romeo — With  love's  light  wings  did  I  o'er* 
perch  these  walls, 
For  stony  limits  cannot  hold  love  out, 
And  what  love  can  do  that  dares  love  attempt; 
Therefore  thy  kinsmen  are  no  let  to  me. 

Juliet — If  they  do  see  thee,  they  will  murther 
thee. 

Romeo — Alack,  there  lies  more  peril  in  thine 
eye 

Than  twenty  of  their  swords;  look  thou  but 
sweet, 

And  I  am  proof  against  their  enmity. 

Juliet — I  would  not  for  the  world  they  saw 
thee  here. 

Romeo — I  have  night's  cloak  to  hide  me  from 
their  eyes; 

An  but  thou  love  me,  let  them  find  me  here: 
My  life  were  better  ended  by  their  hate, 
Than  death  prorogued,  wanting  of  thy  love. 

Sha\espeare 

*  129  & 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 


FRENCH   SWORDSMAN   AND  POET 

Roxane — Well,  if  that  moment's  come  for  us 
— suppose  it! 

What  words  would  serve  you? 

Cyrano —  All,  all,  all,  whatever 

That  came  to  me,  e'en  as  they  came,  I'd  fling 
them 

In  a  wild  cluster,  not  a  careful  bouquet. 
I  love  thee!  I  am  mad!  I  love,  I  stifle! 
Thy  name  is  in  my  heart  as  in  a  sheep'bell, 
And  as  I  ever  tremble,  thinking  of  thee, 
Ever  the  bell  shakes,  ever  thy  name  ringeth! 
All  things  of  thine  I  mind,  for  I  love  all  things; 
I  know  that  last  year  on  the  twelfth  of  May 
month, 

To  walk  abroad  one  day  you  changed  your  hair* 
plaits ! 

I  am  so  used  to  take  your  hair  for  daylight 
That — like  as  when  the  eye  stares  on  the  sun's 
disk, 

One  sees  long  after  a  red  blot  on  all  things — 
So,  when  I  quit  thy  beams,  my  dazzled  vision 
Sees  upon  all  things  a  blond  stain  imprinted. 
Roxane  (agitated) — Why,  this  is  love  indeed ! 

Edmond  Rostand  (Brian  Hoo\er) 


*  130  # 


MEH  IH  LOVE  THROUGH  THE  ACES 


SENTIMENT  INSPIRED   BY  CLARISSA 
 IN   SEVEN  VOLUMES 

He  threw  himself  upon  his  knees  at  my  feet. 
Who  can  bear,  said  he  (with  an  ardour  that 
could  not  be  feigned,  his  own  eyes  glistening) 
who  can  bear  to  behold  such  sweet  emotion?  O 
charmer  of  my  heart!  (and,  respectfully  still 
kneeling,  he  took  my  hand  with  both  his,  press' 
ing  it  to  his  lips).  Command  me  with  you,  com' 
mand  me  from  you;  in  every  way  I  am  all  implicit 
obedience — but  ...  I  appeal  to  everything  you 
know,  to  all  you  have  suffered  . . .  whether  you 
can  possibly  have  such  another  opportunity — 
the  chariot  ready;  my  friends  with  impatience 
expecting  the  result  of  your  own  appointment:  a 
man  whose  will  shall  be  entirely  your  will, 
imploring  you,  thus  on  his  knees  imploring  you 
— to  be  your  own  mistress;  that  is  all;  nor  will  I 
as\  for  your  favour  but  as  upon  full  proof  I  shall 
appear  to  deserve  it.  Fortune,  alliance,  unob' 
jectionable!  O  my  beloved  creature!  (pressing 
my  hand  once  more  to  his  lips)  let  not  such  an 
opportunity  slip.  You  never,  never  will  have 
such  another. 

Samuel  Richardson 


#  131  # 


THE  THmG  CALLED  LOVE 


MR.   VERDANT   GREEN,   OF  A 
GENERATION  BACK 

Mr.  Verdant  Green  managed  to  say,  in  a 
choking,  faltering  tone,  "I  wonder  how  much 
you  like  me — very  much?" 

"Oh,  I  couldn't  tell — how  should  I?  .  .  .  You 
saved  my  life;  so,  of  course,  I  am  very,  very  grate' 
ful;  and  I  hope  I  shall  always  be  your  friend." 

"Yes,  I  hope  so  indeed — always — and  some- 
thing more.  Do  you  hope  the  same?" 

"What  do  you  mean?  Hadn't  we  better  go 
back  to  the  house?" 

"Not  just  yet — it's  so  cool  here — at  least,  not 
cool  exactly,  but  hot — pleasanter,  that  is — 
much  pleasanter  here.  .  .  .  Don't  mind  me;  I  al- 
ways feel  hot  when — when  I  am  out  of  doors." 

"Then  we  had  better  go  indoors." 

"Pray,  don't — not  yet — do  stop  a  little 
longer."  And  his  hand  .  .  .  timidly  seized  Miss 
Patty's  arm,  and  then  naturally,  but  very  gently, 
fell  upon  her  waist.  A  thrill  shot  through  him 
like  an  electric  flash.  .  .  . 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Verdant  Green,  who  was 
now  desperate,  and  mentally  prepared  to  take 
the  dreaded  plunge  into  that  throbbing  sea  that 
beats  upon  the  strand  of  matrimony,  "whether 
you  like  me  very  much  or  not,  I  like  you  very 
much ! — very  much  indeed !  Ever  since  I  saw  you, 


MEH  IH  LOVE  THROUGH  THE  AGES 


since  last  Christmas,  I've — I've  liked  you — very 
much  indeed!11 

"Cuthbert  Bede"  {Rev.  Edward  Bradley} 
THE   BARONET   AND   BECKY  SHARP 

"I  say  again,  I  want  you,11  Sir  Pitt  said,  thump' 
ing  the  table.  "I  can't  git  on  without  you.  I 
didn't  see  what  it  was  till  you  went  awTay.  The 
house  all  goes  wrong.  It's  not  the  same  place.  All 
my  accounts  has  got  muddled  agin.  You  must 
come  back.  Do  come  back.  Dear  Becky,  do  come." 

"Come — as  what,  sir?"  Rebecca  gasped  out. 

"Come  as  Lady  Crawley,  if  you  like,11  the 
Baronet  said,  grasping  his  crape  hat.  "There! 
will  that  zatusfy  you?  Come  back  and  be  my 
wife.  You're  vit  vor't.  Birth  be  hanged.  You're 
as  good  a  lady  as  ever  I  see.  .  .  .  Will  you  come? 
Yes  or  no?" 

"Oh,  Sir  Pitt!"  Rebecca  said,  very  much 
moved. 

"Say  'yes/  Becky,"  Sir  Pitt  continued.  "I'm 
an  old  man,  but  a  good'n.  I'm  good  for  twenty 
years.  I'll  make  you  happy,  zee  if  I  don't.  You 
shall  do  what  you  like;  spend  what  you  like; 
and  'ave  it  all  your  own  way.  I'll  make  you  a 
settlement.  I'll  do  everything  reg'lar.  Look 
yere!"  and  the  old  man  fell  down  on  his  knees 
and  leered  at  her  like  a  satyr. 

VV.  M.  Thac\eray 

%  133  # 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 


ANGEL   CLARE  AND  TESS 

Clare  jumped  up  from  his  seat,  and,  leaving 
his  pail  to  be  kicked  over  if  the  milcher  had  such 
a  mind,  went  quickly  toward  the  desire  of  his 
eyes,  and,  kneeling  down  beside  her,  clasped 
her  in  his  arms. 

Tess  was  taken  completely  by  surprise,  and 
she  yielded  to  his  embrace  with  unreflecting 
inevitableness.  Having  seen  that  it  was  really 
her  lover  who  had  advanced,  and  no  one  else, 
her  lips  parted,  and  she  sank  upon  him  in  her 
momentary  joy,  with  something  very  like  an 
ecstatic  cry. 

He  had  been  on  the  point  of  kissing  that  toe 
tempting  mouth  of  hers,  but  he  checked  himself, 
even  for  tender  conscience'  sake.  "Forgive  me, 
Tess  dear,"  he  whispered.  "I  ought  to  have 
asked.  I — did  not  know  what  I  was  doing.  I  do 
not  mean  it  as  a  liberty  at  all — I — am  devoted  to 
you,  Tessie,  dearest,  with  all  my  soul." 

Thomas  Hardy 
THE   PASSION   OF  OSMOND 

"What  I  wish  to  say  to  you,"  he  went  on  at 
last,  looking  up,  "is  that  I  find  I  am  in  love  with 
you." 

Isabel  instantly  rose  from  her  chair. 

"Ah,  keep  that  till  I  am  tired!"  she  murmured. 

*  134  * 


MEH  IH  LOVE  THROUGH  THE  AGES  ' 

4 'Tired  of  hearing  it  from  others?1'  And  Os- 
mond sat  there,  looking  up  at  her.  "No,  you 
may  heed  it  now,  or  never,  as  you  please.  But, 
after  all,  I  must  say  it  now."  .  .  .  Then  he  got  up 
and  came  near  her,  deeply  respectful,  as  if  he 
were  afraid  he  had  been  too  familiar. 

"I  am  thoroughly  in  love  with  you.11 

The  tears  came  into  Isabel's  eyes.  .  .  .  "Oh, 
don't  say  that,  please,"  she  answered  ...  in  a 
tone  of  entreaty  which  had  nothing  of  conven- 
tional  modesty,  but  which  expressed  the  dread 
of  having  ...  to  choose  and  decide. 

'1  haven't  the  idea  that  it  will  matter  much 
to  you,"  said  Osmond.  "I  have  too  little  to  offer 
you.  What  I  have — it's  enough  for  me;  but  it's 
not  enough  for  you.  I  have  neither  fortune,  nor 
fame,  nor  extrinsic  advantages  of  any  kind.  So  I 
offer  nothing.  I  only  tell  you  because  I  think  it 
can't  offend  you,  and  some  day  or  other  it  may 
give  you  pleasure.  It  gives  me  pleasure,  I  assure 
you,"  he  went  on,  standing  there  before  her, 
bending  forward  a  little,  turning  his  hat,  which 
he  had  taken  up,  slowly  round,  with  a  movement 
which  had  all  the  decent  tremor  of  awkward- 
ness and  none  of  its  oddity,  and  presenting  to 
her  his  keen,  expressive,  emphatic  face.  "It  gives 
me  no  pain,  because  it  is  perfectly  simple.  For 
me  you  will  always  be  the  most  important 

woman  in  the  world."  Henry  James 

*  135  * 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 


A    SHEIK    OF   TO'DAY  A  l'anGLAISE 

Her  body  was  aching  with  the  grip  of  his 
powerful  arms,  her  mouth  was  bruised  with  his 
savage  kisses.  She  clenched  her  hands  in  anguish. 
"Oh,  God!"  she  sobbed,  with  scalding  tears 
that  scorched  her  cheeks.  "Curse  him!  Curse 
him!" 

And  with  the  words  on  her  lips  he  came, 
silent,  noiseless,  to  her  side.  With  his  hands  on 
her  shoulders  he  forced  her  to  her  feet.  His  eyes 
were  fierce,  his  stern  mouth  parted  in  a  cruel 
smile,  his  deep,  slow  voice  half  angry,  half  mv 
patiently  amused.  "Must  I  be  valet  as  well  as 
lover?" 

Edith  M.  Hull 
THE   FRENCH  SCULPTOR 

Dechartre  insisted  on  wishing  to  make 
Therese  admire  what  she  did  not  understand. 
For  her  sake  certainly  he  would  have  sacrificed 
Dante  and  all  the  poets,  with  the  rest  of  the 
universe.  But  by  her  side,  in  the  ardour  of  his 
desire,  beholding  her  tranquil,  he  was  irritated 
by  her  smiling  beauty.  He  felt  bound  to  impose 
on  her  his  ideas,  his  artistic  passions,  even  his 
fancies  and  caprices.  In  a  low  voice  and  in  quick 
argumentative  words  he  remonstrated  with  her. 

"How  vehement  you  are,"  she  said. 


MEH  IK  LOVE  THROUGH  THE  AGES 

Then  he  whispered  in  her  ear,  in  a  passionate 
voice  which  he  vainly  sought  to  moderate: 

"You  must  take  my  soul  with  me.  It  would 
give  me  no  joy  to  win  you  with  a  soul  that 
was  not  my  own." 

At  these  words  there  passed  over  Therese  a 
little  shudder  of  fear  and  joy. 

Anatole  France 


%  137  * 


LITTLE  COURSE 
LOVE-MAKING 


A    LITTLE   COURSE   IN  LOVE'MAKING 

These  are  days  when  \nowledge  calls  aloud  from 
the  advertising  pages.  On  the  authority  of  the 
teachers  themselves,  we  favoured  moderns  may 
learn  by  mail  such  things  as  our  benighted  fore 
fathers  never  dreamed  of — how  to  alter  the  cabriole 
legs  with  which  nature  has  endowed  us  to  Heppel- 
white,  how  to  have  a  Compelling  Personality,  or 
to  play  the  Tenor  Banjo  in  One  Minute. 

It  has  seemed  as  if  there  were  one  slight  gap  in 
this  encyclopedic  offering — despite  the  gentleman 
who  offers  to  reveal  the  Secrets  of  Sex  Fascination. 

So  we  have  gathered  from  some  of  the  many 
acute  writers,  from  ancient  Egyptians  to  Ovid, 
from  Theocritus  to  Dryden,  from  Byron  and  de 
Maupassant  to  Marie  Corelli,  a  few  scattering 
precepts  in  the  universally  appealing  art-science  of 
Efficiency  in  Love.  Most  of  these  counsellors  were 
clearly  Go-Getters:  they  advise  out  of  their  own 
rich  experience.  That  even  such  experts  occasion- 
ally differ  is  merely  another  evidence  of  the  com- 
plexity of  the  subject  and  the  need  for  erecting  a 
scientific  basis  of  sound  practice. 

#■  141  * 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 


W  ALL'MOTTO 

Why  makest  thou  it  so  strange? 
She  is  a  woman,  therefore  may  be  woo'd; 
She  is  a  woman,  therefore  may  be  won; 

Then  why  should  he  despair  that  knows  to  court 
it 

With  words,  fair  looks,  and  liberality? 

Sha\espeare 

A  PESSIMIST 

I  know  the  nature  of  women.  When  you  will, 
they  will  not;  when  you  will  not,  they  come  of 
their  own  accord. 

Terence 

THE  WAZIR  PTAH'HOTEP  COUNSELS 
KING   ASSA    (PERHAPS   3,000   B.  C.) 

If  thou  wouldest  be  wise,  provide  for  thine 
house,  and  love  thy  wife  that  is  in  thine  arms. 
Fill  her  stomach,  clothe  her  back;  oil  is  the  rem' 
edy  of  her  limbs.  Gladden  her  heart  during  her 
lifetime,  for  she  is  an  estate  profitable  unto  its 
lord.  Be  not  harsh,  for  gentleness  mastereth  her 
more  than  strength.  Give  to  her  that  for  which 
she  sigheth  and  that  toward  which  her  eye 
looketh;  so  shalt  thou  keep  her  in  thy  house. 

Translated  by  Brian  Brown 
%  142  $ 


A  LITTLE  COURSE  W  LOVE-MAKING 


THE   YOUNG   SINGER  SHOWS  HER 

ACCOMPLISHMENTS  AND 

HER  FEELINGS 

(Malavi\a,  having  approached  the  King,  sings 
the  four" part  composition): 

My  beloved  is  hard  to  obtain;  be  then  without 
hope  with  respect  to  him,  O  my  heart!  Ha!  the 
outer  corner  of  my  left  eye  throbs  somewhat: 
how  is  this  man,  seen  after  a  long  time,  to  be 
obtained? 

My  lord,  consider  that  I  look  upon  thee  with 
ardent  longing. 

(She  goes  through  a  pantomime  expressive  of 
the  sentiment.) 

Vidusha\a  (aside) — Ha!  ha!  this  lady  may  be 
said  to  have  made  use  of  this  composition  in  four 
parts  for  the  purpose  of  flinging  herself  at  your 
nead-  Kalidasa  (Fifth  Century) 

LOVE  AMONG   THE  FLOWERS 

You  with  mallow  sighings,  hyacin thine  breath, 
Honey  clover  speeches,  rose  smiles  for  your 
mate, 

Marjoram  kisses,  love'embraces  in  a  parsley 
wreath, 

Tiger'lily  laughter,  larkspur  gait, — 
Pour  the  wine  and  read  the  poem  as  the  sacred 
laws  dictate.  Pherecrates  (About  430  b.  c.) 

#  143  & 


THE  TH1HG  CALLED  LOVE 


simaetha's  spell  to  win 
back  delphis 

Where  are  my  bay4eaves?  Come,  Thestylis;- 
where  are  my  love'charms7  Come,  crown  me  the 
bowl  with  the  crimson  flower  o1  wool;  I  would 
fain  have  the  fircspell  to  my  cruel  dear  that  for 
twelve  days  hath  not  so  much  as  come  anigh 
me,  the  wretch,  nor  knows  whether  I  be  alive 
or  dead;  nay,  nor  ever  hath  knocked  upon  my 
door,  implacable  man.  I  warrant  ye  Love  and 
the  Lady  be  gone  away  with  his  feat  fancy. 
In  the  morning  Til  to  Timagetus'  school  and 
see  him,  and  ask  what  he  means  to  use  me  so; 
but  for  tonight,  I'll  put  the  spell  o'  fire  upon 
him. 

So  shine  me  fair,  sweet  Moon;  for  to  thee,  still 
Goddess,  is  my  song,  to  thee  and  that  Hecat 
infernal  who  makes  e'en  the  whelps  to  shiver  on 
her  goings  to  and  fro  where  these  tombs  be  and 
the  red  blood  lies.  All  hail  to  thee,  dread  and 
awful  Hecat!  I  prithee  so  bear  me  company 
that  this  medicine  of  my  making  prove  potent 
as  any  of  Circe's  or  Medea's  or  Perimed's  of 
the  golden  hair. 

Wrynec\,  wrynec\,  draw  him  hither  \ 

Theocritus  (Translated  by  J.  M.  Edmonds) 
*  144  # 


A  LITTLE  COURSE  17i  LOVE-MAKING 


WISDOM   OF   SIR  HUDIBRAS 

He  that  will  win  his  dame  must  do 
As  love  does  when  he  draws  his  bow; 
With  one  hand  thrust  the  lady  from, 
And  with  the  other  pull  her  home. 

Samuel  Butler 
THE   SONG    OF   THE  SIRENS 

And  I  anointed  therewith  (with  wax)  the 
ears  of  all  my  men  in  their  order,  and  in  the  ship 
they  bound  me  hand  and  foot  upright  in  the 
mast-stead,  and  to  the  mast  they  fastened  the 
rope-ends,  and  themselves  sat  down,  and  smote 
the  grey  sea  water  with  their  oars.  But  when  the 
ship  was  within  the  sound  of  a  man's  shout 
from  the  land,  we  fleeing  swiftly  on  our  way, 
the  Sirens  espied  the  swift  ship  speeding  toward 
them,  and  they  raised  their  clear- toned  song: 
"Hither,  come  hither,  renowned  Odys- 
seus, great  glory  of  the  Achasans,  here  stay 
thy  barque,  that  thou  mayest  listen  to  the 
voice  of  us  twain.  For  none  hath  ever  driven 
by  this  way  in  his  black  ship,  till  he  hath 
heard  from  our  Hps  the  voice  sweet  as  the 
honey  comb,  and  hath  had  joy  thereof  and 
gone  on  his  way  the  wiser.  For  lo,  we  know 
*  i45  * 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

all  things,  all  the  travail  that  in  wide  Troy 
land  the  Argives  and  Trojans  bare  by  the 
gods'  designs,  yea,  and  we  know  all  that  shall 
hereafter  be  upon  the  fruitful  earth." 
So  spake  they,  uttering  a  sweet  voice,  and  my 
heart  was  fain  to  listen,  and  I  bade  my  company 
unbind  me,  nodding  at  them  with  a  frown; 
but  they  bent  to  their  oars  and  rowed  on. 

Homer  (Translated  by  Andrew  Lang) 

If  you  wish  to  be  loved,  love. 

Seneca 

THE   ART   OF   LOVE  FEMININE 

When  first  a  lover  you'd  design  to  charm, 
Beware,  lest  jealousies  his  soul  alarm; 
Make  him  believe  with  all  the  skill  you  can, 
That  he,  and  only  he's  the  happy  man. 
Anon,  by  due  degrees,  small  doubt  create, 
And  let  him  fear  some  rival's  better  fate. 
Such  little  arts  make  love  its  vigour  hold, 
Which  else  would  languish,  and  too  soon  grow 
cold. 

Ovid  (Translated  by  Dryden) 
THE   ART   OF   LOVE  MASCULINE 

Her  wishes  never,  nor  her  will  withstand: 
Submit,  you  conquer;  serve,  and  you'll  command. 
Her  words  approve,  deny  what  she  denies, 
Like  what  she  likes,  and  when  she  scorns,  despise. 
$  146  * 


A  LITTLE  COURSE  IK  LOVE-MAKIHG 

Laugh  when  she  smiles;  when  sad,  dissolve  in 
tears; 

Let  every  gesture  sympathize  with  hers; 
If  she  delights,  as  women  will,  in  play, 
Her  stakes  return,  your  ready  losings  pay. 
When  she's  at  cards,  or  rattling  dice  she  throws, 
Connive  at  cheats,  and  generously  lose. 
A  smiling  winner  let  the  nymph  remain, 
Let  your  pleased  mistress  every  conquest  gain. 
In  heat,  with  an  umbrella  ready  stand; 
When  walking,  offer  your  officious  hand; 
Her  trembling  hands,  tho'  you  sustain  the  cold, 
Cherish,  and  to  your  warmer  bosom  hold. 
Think  no  inferior  office  a  disgrace. 

When  all  are  risen  and  prepare  to  go, 

Mix  with  the  crowd,  and  tread  upon  her  toe. 

Act  well  the  lover,  let  thy  speech  abound 
In  dying  words  that  represent  thy  wound. 
Distrust  not  her  belief;  she  will  be  movM; 
All  women  think  they  merit  to  be  loved. 

Ovid  (Translated  by  Dryden) 

You  must  make  a  lover  angry  if  you  wish  him 
to  love. 

Publius  Syrus 

*  147  * 


THE  rHIHG  CALLED  LOVE 


CONSTANT  DROPPING 

Teares  most  prevaile;  with  teares  too  thou 

may'st  move 
Rocks  to  relent,  and  coyest  maids  to  love. 

Herric\ 

othello's  method 

Upon  this  hint  I  spoke; 
She  loved  me  for  the  dangers  I  had  passed 
And  I  loved  her  that  she  did  pity  them. 
This  only  is  the  witchcraft  I  have  used: 
Here  comes  the  lady;  let  her  witness  it. 

Shakespeare 

THE  EUPHUIST 

It  is  better  to  poyson  her  with  the  sweet  bait 
of  love. 

Lyly 

A  Douglas's  idea 

Til  woo  her  as  the  lion  woos  his  brides. 

John  Home 


Why  did  she  love  him?  Curious  fool! — be  still — 
Is  human  love  the  growth  of  human  will? 

Byron 

%  148  # 


A  LITTLE  COURSE  IH  LOVE-MAKIHG 


A   MASTER   OF  THE  CRAFT 

Juan  would  question  further,  but  she  press'd 
His  lips  to  hers,  and  silenced  him  with  this, 
And  then  dismiss'd  the  omen  from  her  breast, 
Defying  augury  with  that  fond  kiss; 
And  no  doubt  of  all  methods  'tis  the  best: 
Some  people  prefer  wine — 'tis  not  amiss; 
I  have  tried  both;  so  those  who  would  a  part  take 
May  choose  between  the  headache  and  the 
heartache. 

Byron 

POWER   OF   THE   WRITTEN  WORD 

When  Odin  tried  to  kiss  her  (Wrinda,  daugh' 
ter  of  the  King  of  the  Ruthenians)  at  his  de- 
parture, she  repulsed  him  so  that  he  tottered 
and  smote  his  chin  upon  the  ground.  Straightway 
he  touched  her  with  a  piece  of  bark  whereon 
runes  were  written,  and  made  her  like  unto  one 
in  frenzy:  which  was  a  gentle  revenge  to  take 
for  all  the  insults  he  had  received. 

Saxo  Grammaticus 

THE  STRAIGHTFORWARD 
SCANDINAVIAN 

And  as  Skiold  thus  waxed  in  years  and  valour 
he  beheld  the  perfect  beauty  of  Alfhild,  daughter 
of  the  King  of  the  Saxons,  sued  for  her  hand,  and. 

$  149 


THE  THIKG  CALLED  LOVE 

for  her  sake,  in  the  sight  of  the  armies  of  the 
Teutons  and  the  Danes,  challenged  and  fought 
with  Skat,  governor  of  Allemannia,  and  a  suitor 
for  the  same  maiden;  whom  he  slew,  afterwards 
crushing  the  whole  nation  of  the  Allemannians, 
and  forcing  them  to  pay  tribute,  they  being  sub' 
jugated  by  the  death  of  their  captain.  .  .  . 

Thus  delivered  of  his  bitterest  rival  in  wooing, 
he  took  as  the  prize  of  combat  the  maiden  for  the 
love  of  whom  he  had  fought,  and  wedded  her  in 
marriage. 

Saxo  Grammaticus 
A   SOCIETY  IDEAL 

In  affairs  of  love  a  woman  is  perhaps  most 
easily  ensnared  by  a  man  who  can  combine  pas' 
sion  with  pleasantry  and  hot  pursuit  with  social 
tact  and  diplomacy. 

Marie  Corelli 
BEAUCHAMP   AND  RENEE 

And  becoming  entirely  selfish  he  impressed 
his  total  abnegation  of  self  upon  Renee  so  that 
she  could  have  worshipped  him.  A  lover  that 
was  like  a  starry  frost,  froze  her  veins,  bewildered 
her  intelligence.  She  yearned  for  meridian 
warmth,  for  repose  in  a  directing  hand;  and  let 
it  be  as  hard  as  one  that  grasps  a  sword:  what 
*■  150  % 


A  LITTLE  COURSE  I?i  LOVE-MAKING 

matter?  unhesitatingness  was  the  warrior  virtue 
of  her  desire.  George  Meredith 

THE   MASTERFUL  MINISTER 

"The  man  I  could  love,"  Babbie  went  on  .  .  . 
"must  not  spend  his  days  in  idleness  as  the  men 
I  know  do." 

"I  do  not." 

"He  must  be  brave,  no  mere  worker  among 
others,  but  a  leader  of  men." 
"All  ministers  are." 
".  .  .  He  must  understand  me." 
"I  do." 

"And  be  my  master." 
"It  is  his  lawful  position  in  the  house." 
"He  must  not  yield  to  my  coaxing  or  tern* 
pers." 

"It  would  be  weakness." 

"But  compel  me  to  do  his  bidding;  yes,  even 
thrash  me  if  " 

" — If  you  won't  listen  to  reason.  Babbie," 
cried  Gavin,  "I  am  that  man!"  Rime 

AUDACE,   TOUJOURS  l'aUDACE 

A  pressing  lover  seldom  wants  success, 
Whilst  the  respectful,  like  the  Greek,  sits  down, 
And  wastes  a  ten  years'  siege  before  one  town. 

Nicholas  Rome 


%  151  * 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 


PROHIBITION 

Be  to  her  virtues  very  kind; 

Be  to  her  faults  a  little  blind 

Let  all  her  ways  be  unconfin'd, 

And  clap  your  padlock — on  her  mind. 

Prior 

A   FRENCH  ARTIST 

Accepting  his  statement  as  a  sort  of  jest,  of 
no  real  importance,  she  would  say  gaily  on  enter' 
ing:  "Well,  how  goes  your  love  tO'day?" 

He  would  reply  lightly,  yet  with  perfect 
seriousness,  telling  her  of  the  progress  of  his 
malady,  in  all  its  intimate  details,  and  of  the 
depth  of  the  tenderness  that  had  been  born  and 
was  daily  increasing.  He  analysed  himself  mi' 
nutely  before  her,  hour  by  hour,  since  their  sepa' 
ration  the  evening  before,  with  the  air  of  a  pro- 
fessor  giving  a  lecture;  and  she  listened  with 
interest,  a  little  moved,  and  somewhat  disturbed 
by  this  story  which  seemed  one  in  a  book  of 
which  she  was  the  heroine.  When  he  had  enu' 
merated,  in  his  gallant  and  easy  manner,  all  the 
anxieties  of  which  he  had  become  the  prey,  his 
voice  sometimes  trembled,  in  expressing  by  a 
word,  or  only  by  an  intonation,  the  tender  ach' 
ing  of  his  heart. 

And  she  persisted  in  questioning  him,  vibrat' 
$  152  $ 


A  LITTLE  COURSE  I7i  LOVE-MAKING 


ing  with  curiosity,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  him,  her 
ear  eager  for  those  things  that  are  disturbing 
to  know  but  charming  to  hear. 

de  'Maupassant 

IN  TAHITI 

Everyone  has  a  white  flower  behind  their  ear. 
Mamua  has  given  me  one.  Do  you  know  the 
significance  of  a  white  flower  worn  over  the  ear? 
A  white  flower  over  the  right  ear  means  "I 
am  looking  for  a  sweetheart."  And  a  white 
flower  over  the  left  ear  means  "I  have  found  a 
sweetheart.11  And  a  white  flower  over  each  ear 
means  "I  have  one  sweetheart,  and  am  looking 
for  another.'1  A  white  flower  over  each  ear,  my 
dear,  is  dreadfully  the  most  fashionable  way  of 
adorning  yourself  in  Tahiti. 

Rupert  Broo\e 
THE   MAN   OR   THE  MANNER 

A  third  rode  up  at  a  startling  pace — 
A  suitor  poor,  with  a  homely  face — 

No  doubts  appeared  to  bind  him. 
He  kissed  her  lips  and  he  pressed  her  waist, 
And  off  he  rode  with  the  maiden,  placed 

On  a  pillion  safe  behind  him. 
And  she  heard  the  suitor  bold  confide 
This  golden  hint  to  the  priest  who  tied 

&  153  £ 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 


The  knot  there's  no  undoing: 
"With  pretty,  young  maidens  who  can  choose, 
'Tis  not  so  much  the  gallant  who  woos 

As  the  gallant's  way  of  wooing." 

W.  S.  Gilbert 
SINGULARITY,    OR   GOOD  LOOKS? 

Saint'Clair,  after  modestly  pleading  inex' 
perience  in  this  delicate  subject,  gave  as  his 
opinion  that  the  chief  way  to  please  a  woman 
is  to  be  singular,  to  be  different  from  others. 
But  he  did  not  think  it  possible  to  give  a  general 
prescription  for  singularity. 

"According  to  your  view,"  said  Jules,  "a 
lame  or  hump-backed  man  would  have  a  better 
chance  of  pleasing  than  one  of  ordinary  make." 

"You  push  things  too  far,"  retorted  Saint' 
Clair,  "but  I  am  willing  to  accept  all  the  conse- 
quences  of  my  proposition.  For  example,  if  I 
were  hump-backed,  instead  of  blowing  out  my 
brains  I  would  make  conquests.  In  the  first  place, 
I  would  try  my  wiles  on  those  who  are  generally 
tender-hearted;  then  on  those  women — and 
there  are  many  of  them — who  set  up  for  being 
original — eccentric,  as  they  say  in  England. 
To  begin  with,  I  should  describe  my  pitiful  con- 
dition, and  point  out  that  I  was  the  victim  of 
Nature's  cruelty.  I  should  try  to  move  them  to 
sympathy  with  my  lot,  I  should  let  them  suspect 

*  154  * 


A  LITTLE  COURSE  I7i  LOVE-MAKING 


that  I  was  capable  of  a  passionate  love.  I  should 
kill  one  of  my  rivals  in  a  duel,  and  I  should  pre' 
tend  to  poison  myself  with  a  feeble  dose  of 
laudanum.  After  a  few  months  they  would  not 
notice  my  deformity,  and  then  I  should  be  on 
the  watch  for  the  first  signs  of  affection.  With 
women  who  aspire  to  originality  conquest  is 
easy.  Only  persuade  them  that  it  is  a  hard'and' 
fast  rule  that  a  deformed  person  can  never  have 
a  love  affair,  they  will  immediately  then  wish 
to  prove  the  opposite/' 

"What  a  Don  Juan!"  cried  Jules. 

"...  As  for  me,"  said  Themines,  renewing  the 
conversation,  "the  longer  I  live,  the  more  clearly 
I  see  that  the  chief  singularity  which  attracts 
even  the  most  obdurate,  is  passable  features" — 
and  he  threw  a  complaisant  glance  in  a  mirror 
opposite — "passable  features  and  good  taste  in 
dress,"  and  he  filliped  a  crumb  of  bread  off  his 
coat. 

Prosper  Merim'ee 


%  155  * 


MAN  PROPOSES 


MAN  PROPOSES 


Why  don't  the  men  propose,  mamma,  Why 
don't  the  men  propose  ? 

T.  H.  Bayly 
AN   ENGLISH   KING'S  WAY 

King  Henry —  ...  I  know  no  ways  to  mince 
it  in  love,  but  directly  to  say  "I  love  you": 
then,  if  you  urge  me  further  than  to  say  "Do 
you  in  faith?"  I  wear  out  my  suit.  Give  me  your 
answer;  i  faith  do:  and  so  clap  hands  and  a  bar- 
gain. How  say  you,  lady? 

Katharine — Sauf  vostre  honneur,  me  under' 
stand  veil. 

King  Henry — Marry,  if  you  would  put  me 
to  verses,  or  to  dance  for  your  sake,  Kate,  why 
you  undid  me:  for  the  one,  I  have  neither  words 
nor  measure,  and  for  the  other,  I  have  no  strength 
in  measure,  yet  a  reasonable  measure  in  strength. 
If  I  could  win  a  lady  at  leap-frog,  or  by  vaulting 
into  my  saddle  with  my  armour  on  my  back, 
under  the  correction  of  bragging  be  it  spoken, 
I  should  quickly  leap  into  a  wife.  Or  if  I 

*  159  * 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

might  buffet  for  my  love,  or  bound  my  horse 
for  her  favours,  I  could  lay  on  like  a  butcher  and 
sit  like  a  jack-an-apes,  never  off.  But  before  God, 
Kate,  I  cannot  look  greenly  nor  gasp  out  my 
eloquence,  nor  I  have  no  cunning  in  protestation; 
only  downright  oaths,  which  I  never  use  till 
urged,  nor  never  break  for  urging.  If  thou  canst 
love  a  fellow  of  this  temper,  Kate,  whose  face 
is  not  worth  sun-burning,  that  never  looks  in 
his  glass  for  love  of  anything  he  sees  there,  let 
thine  eye  be  thy  cook.  I  speak  to  thee  plain  sol' 
dier:  if  thou  canst  love  me  for  this,  take  me;  if 
not,  to  say  to  thee  that  I  shall  die,  is  true;  but 
for  thy  love,  by  the  Lord,  no;  yet  I  love  thee  too. 
And  while  thou  livest,  dear  Kate,  take  a  fellow 
of  plain  and  uncoined  constancy,  for  he  perforce 
must  do  thee  right,  because  he  hath  not  the  gift 
to  woo  in  other  places;  for  these  fellows  of  in' 
finite  tongue,  that  can  rhyme  themselves  into 
ladies'  favours,  they  do  always  reason  themselves 
out  again.  What!  a  speaker  is  but  a  prater;  a 
rhyme  is  but  a  ballad.  A  good  leg  will  fail,  a 
straight  back  will  stoop,  a  black  beard  will  turn 
white,  a  curled  pate  will  grow  bald,  a  fair  face 
will  wither,  a  full  eye  will  wax  hollow,  but  a 
good  heart,  Kate,  is  the  sun  and  the  moon;  or, 
rather,  the  sun,  and  not  the  moon;  for  it  shines 
bright  and  never  changes,  but  keeps  his  course 
truly.  If  thou  would  have  such  a  one,  take  me; 
$  160  $ 


MAH  PROPOSES 

and  take  me,  take  a  soldier;  take  a  soldier,  take  a 
king.  And  what  sayest  thou  then  to  my  love? 
speak,  my  fair,  and  fairly,  I  pray  thee. 

Katharine — Is  it  possible  dat  I  sould  love 
de  enemy  of  France? 

King  Henry — No;  it  is  not  possible  you 
should  love  the  enemy  of  France,  Kate;  but,  in 
loving  me,  you  should  love  the  friend  of  France; 
for  I  love  France  so  well,  that  I  will  not  part 
with  a  village  of  it;  I  will  have  it  all  mine:  and, 
Kate,  when  France  is  mine  and  I  am  yours,  then 
yours  is  France  and  you  are  mine. 

Katharine — I  cannot  tell  vat  is  dat.  .  .  . 

Katharine — Sauf  vostre  honneur,  le  Francois 
que  vous  parlez  est  meilleur  que  TAnglois  lequel 
je  parle. 

King  Henry — No,  faith,  is't  not,  Kate;  but 
thy  speaking  of  my  tongue,  and  I  thine,  most 
truly  falsely,  must  needs  be  granted  to  be  much 
at  one.  But,  Kate,  dost  thou  understand  thus 
much  English,  Canst  thou  love  me? 

Katharine —  I  cannot  tell. 

King  Henry — Can  any  of  your  neighbours 
tell,  Kate?  I'll  ask  them.  Come,  I  know  thou 
lovest  me;  and  at  night  when  you  come  into 
your  closet  youll  question  this  gentlewoman 
about  me;  and  I  know,  Kate,  you  will  to  her 
dispraise  those  parts  in  me  that  you  love  with 
your  heart;  but,  good  Kate,  mock  me  mercifully; 
%  161  $ 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

the  rather,  gentle  princess,  because  I  love  thee 
cruelly.  If  ever  thou  be'st  mine,  Kate, — as  I 
have  a  saving  faith  within  me  tells  me  thou 
shalt, — I  get  thee  with  scambling,  and  thou 
must  therefore  needs  prove  a  good  soldier' 
breeder.  Shall  not  thou  and  I,  between  Saint 
Denis  and  Saint  George,  compound  a  boy,  half 
French,  half  English,  that  shall  go  to  Constants 
nople,  and  take  the  Turk  by  the  beard?  shall  we 
not?  what  sayest  thou,  my  fair  flower-de-luce? 

(King  Henry  V.)  Sha\espeare 

A   FRENCH   MONARCH   OF  THE 
DAYS   OF  ROMANCE 

Then  the  king  began  for  to  speake  in  this 
maner  and  sayd.  Gentill  damoysell  pleasaunt, 
vertuous,  garnished  of  al  beautie  in  whome  I 
have  totali  set  the  love  of  my  herte,  is  it  not 
wel  your  wil  that  I  be  your  husband.  Pleaseth  it 
you  not  to  be  my  wife  and  spouse  thende  that 
I  make  you  to  be  crowned  as  quene  and  lady  of 
Lilefort.  May  ye  finde  in  your  herte  by  suche 
maner  to  accomplishe  my  wil,  that  you  and  I 
might  be  assembled  and  conionct  by  mariage. 
Answere  ye  nowe  and  say  your  advise.  Ha  sir 
saide  she  right  humblye.  I  am  not  digne  ne 
sufEsaunt  that  ye  do  to  me  suche  honour,  for  the 
handmaiden  or  subgecte  ought  not  ne  marye 
nor  in  any  thinge  compare  to  her  prence  and 
^  162  # 


MAH  PROPOSES 

lorde.  But  sith  that  it  pleaseth  you  to  commaund 
me  so  to  doo,  in  disparsinge  to  me  of  your  grace 
I  wer  right  simple  and  evil  instruct  if  I  refused 
your  pleasure,  and  the  excellent  honour  that 
ye  so  benignely  and  of  your  goodnesse  unto  me 
present.  For  if  it  shoulde  please  you  to  marye 
me  to  the  least  knight  of  your  noble  company 
yet  ought  I  to  consent  of  right.  Wherfore  to 
you  that  is  my  lorde,  and  to  other  incomparable: 
I  am  all  redy  to  obey  and  accept  your  good  and 
noble  wil  in  the  honour  wherto  ye  require  me, 
the  which  with  good  herte  I  ottroye  and  graunt 
you.  And  then  king  Oriant  tooke  her  by  the 
hand  and  said  Certes  lady  I  promise  you  on  the 
faith  of  knighthod  that  as  long  as  ye  be  on  live 
never  to  espouse  other  woman  than  you,  and  I 
assure  you  even  here  that  I  shal  be  your  hus' 
bande.  And  thus  bi  a  comin  accorde  and  by  the 
consentement  of  them  bothe  was  promised  the 
saide  mariage  with  one  cordiall  love. 

Helyas,  the  Knight  of  the  Swanne.  (Copland) 

mr.  pickwick's  unconscious 
proposal  to  mrs.  bardell 

"  'Chops  and  Tomata  Sauce.  Yours,  Pickwick.' 

"Chops!  Gracious  heavens!  and  Tomata 
Sauce !  Gentlemen,  is  the  happiness  of  a  sensitive 
and  confiding  female  to  be  trifled  away  by  such 
shallow  artifices  as  these?"  Charles  Dic\ens 

*  163  * 


THE  TH1HG  CALLED  LOVE 


A   SELF'CONSCIOUS  RUSSIAN 

"You  say  that,  Alexandra  Pavlovna,  because 
you  don't  know  me.  You  think  I  am  a  stock,  a 
perfect  stock,  a  sort  of  wooden  man;  but  if  you 
knew  that  I  could  melt  like  sugar  and  pass  whole 
days  on  my  knees!1'' 

"I  must  say  I  should  like  to  see  that." 

Leschnieff  arose  suddenly.  "Well,  marry  me, 
Alexandra,  and  you  will  see  it." 

Alexandra  blushed  crimson. 

"What  did  you  say,  Michael  Michaelovitch?" 
she  said  with  embarrassment. 

"I  said,"  answered  Leschnieff,  "what  has  for 
a  long  time  been  on  the  tip  of  my  tongue.  I  have 
now  said  it,  and  you  can  act  on  it  as  you  please. 
In  order  not  to  embarrass  you,  I  will  go  away. 
Yes,  I'm  going.  ...  If  you  consent  to  be  my  wife 
...  if  that  is  not  disagreeable  to  you,  send  some' 
one  after  me." 

Alexandra  wanted  to  detain  Leschnieff,  but 
he  went  quickly  into  the  garden  without  his  hat 
and  leaned  on  a  little  gate,  letting  his  eyes  wan' 
der  in  the  distant  prospect. 

"If  you  please,  sir,"  said  a  maidservant  behind 
him,  "my  mistress  told  me  to  ask  you  to  come 
in." 

Turgeniev 

%  164  $ 


MAN  PROPOSES 


WITH   THE   HELP   OF  BUDGE 

"Yes,"  continued  Budge,  "I  know  all  about 
it.  Only  Uncle  Harry  don't  say  it  right.  What 
he  calls  espect,  I  calls  Jove." 

There  was  an  awkward  pause — it  seemed  an 
age.  Another  blunder,  and  all  on  account  of 
those  dreadful  children.  I  could  think  of  no 
possible  way  to  turn  the  conversation;  stranger 
yet,  Miss  Mayton  could  not  do  so  either.  Some' 
thing  must  be  done — I  could  at  least  be  honest, 
come  what  would — I  would  be  honest. 

"Miss  Mayton,"  said  I,  hastily,  earnestly,  but 
in  a  very  low  tone,  "Budge  is  a  marplot,  but  he 
is  a  truthful  interpreter  for  all  that.  But  what' 
ever  my  fate  may  be,  please  do  not  suspect  me 
of  falling  suddenly  into  love  for  a  holiday's 
diversion.  My  malady  is  of  some  months' 
standing.  I  " 

"I  want  to  talk  some,"  observed  Budge. 
"You  talk  all  the  whole  time.  I — I — when  I 
loves  anybody,  I  kisses  them." 

Miss  Mayton  gave  a  little  start,  and  my 
thoughts  followed  each  other  with  unimagined 
rapidity.  She  did  not  turn  the  conversation — it 
could  not  be  possible  that  she  could  not.  She 
was  not  angry,  or  she  would  have  expressed 

herself.  Could  it  be  that  

$  165  # 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

I  bent  over  and  acted  upon  Budge's  sugges' 
tion.  As  she  displayed  no  resentment,  I  pressed 
my  lips  a  second  time  to  her  forehead;  then  she 
raised  her  head  slightly,  and  I  saw,  in  spite  of 
darkness  and  shadows,  that  Alice  Mayton  had 
surrendered  at  discretion. 

John  Habberton 
IN   THE   REFINED  SIXTIES 

Roderick  advanced  a  step.  "Me  void  !  Je  suis 
revenu"  was  all  he  said,  speaking  in  French,  as 
seemed  most  natural. 

"Oui  J  oui  /  oui  r  and,  with  a  glad  cry,  Silence 
clasped  her  hands,  the  first  impulsive  gesture 
he  had  ever  seen  her  use.  "Oui,  il  est  revenu  f* 

The  minute  afterward — he  knew  not  how; 
in  truth,  neither  ever  did  know — he  felt  her  in 
his  arms,  gathered  close  to  his  breast,  sheltering 
and  sheltered  there  as  if  it  were  her  natural 
refuge.  He  did  not  kiss  her — he  dared  not;  but 
he  touched  her  soft  hair  as  it  lay  on  his  shoulder; 
he  pressed  her,  all  shaking  with  sobs,  to  his 
breast;  he  called  her  by  her  name,  first,  "ma 
cousine"  and  then  "Silence."  An  instant  more, 
and  putting  her  a  little  apart  from  him,  so  that 
he  could  look  down  into  her  eyes,  he  breathed, 
rather  than  spoke,  another  word — an  English 
word — "My  wife!" 

Silence  shrank  back  for  one  moment,  trembling 
«  166  & 


MAK  PROPOSES 

violently,  drooped  her  face,  all  scarlet,  and  then 
lifted  it  up  with  a  strange  pathos  of  entreaty, 
almost  appeal,  as  if  she  had  but  him  in  the  whole 
world. 

"Your  mother,1'  he  whispered — "your  mother 
knew  it  all."" 
"Then — yes  f* 

Roderick  drew  her  back  again,  close  into  his 
very  heart,  and  pressed  his  lips  upon  hers.  In  that 
long,  silent,  solemn  troth-plight  the  two  became 
one — forever. 

"Miss  MulockT  (Diana  Maria  Crm^) 

JE  AMES   STARTS   TO  "aLIe'1 
HIMSELF   WITH   THE  "ARISTOXY" 

Lady  Hangelina,  too,  igspawstulated  in  her 
hartfl  way.  "Mr.  De  la  Pluche  (seshee),  why, 
why  press  this  point?  You  can't  suppose  that 
you  will  be  happy  with  a  person  like  me?" 

"I  adoar  you,  charming  gal!"  says  I.  "Never, 
never  go  to  say  any  such  thing." 

"You  adored  Mary  Ann  first,"  answers  her 
Ladyship;  "you  can't  keep  your  eyes  off  her 
now.  If  any  man  courts  her  you  grow  so  jealous 
that  you  begin  beating  him.  You  will  break 
the  girl's  heart  if  you  don't  marry  her,  and 
perhaps  some  one  else's — but  you  don't  mind 
thtft." 

"Break  yours,  you  adoarible  creature!  I'd  die 
*  167  * 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

first!  And  as  for  Mary  Harm,  she  will  git  over 
it;  people's  arts  ain't  broakn  so  easy.  Once  for 
all,  suckmstances  is  changed  betwigst  me  and 
her.  It's  a  pang  to  part  with  her"  (says  I,  my 
fine  hi's  filling  with  tears),  "but  part  from  her 
I  must." 

It  was  curius  to  remark  abowt  that  singlar  gal, 
Lady  Hangelina,  that  melumcolly  as  she  was 
when  she  was  talking  to  me,  and  ever  so  disml — 
yet  she  kep  on  laffing  every  minute  like  the 
juice  and  all. 

"What  a  sacrifice!"  says  she;  "it's  like  Na' 
poleon  giving  up  Josephine.  What  anguish  it 
must  cause  to  your  susceptible  heart!" 

"It  does,"  says  I — "Hagnies!"  (Another  lafF.) 

"And  if — if  I  don't  accept  you — you  will  in' 
vade  the  States  of  the  Emperor  my  papa,  and 
I  am  to  be  made  the  sacrifice  and  the  occasion 
of  peace  between  you!" 

"I  don't  know  what  you're  eluding  to  about 
Joseyfeen  and  Hemperors  your  Pas;  but  I  know 
that  your  Pa's  estate  is  over  hedaneers  mop 
gidged;  that  if  some  one  dont  elp  him,  he's  no 
better  than  an  old  pawper;  that  he  owes  me  a 
lot  of  money;  and  that  I'm  the  man  that  can 
sell  him  up  hoss  6?  foot;  or  set  him  up  agen — 
that's  what  I  know,  Lady  Hangelina,"  says  I, 
with  a  hair  as  much  as  to  say,  "Put  that  in  your 
Ladyship's  pipe  and  smoke  it." 

^  168  % 


MAH  PROPOSES 


And  so  I  left  her,  and  nex  day  a  serting  fash' 
nable  paper  enounced — 

"Marriage  in  High  Life. — We  hear  that  a 
matrimonial  union  is  on  the  tapis  between  a 
gentleman  who  has  made  a  colossal  fortune  in 
the  Railway  World,  and  the  only  daughter  of  a 
noble  earl,  whose  estates  are  situated  in  D — 
d-dles — x.  An  early  day  is  fixed  for  this  interest' 

fageVent-"  W.M.  Thackeray 

THE   RECKLESSNESS    OF  PASSION 

Rosier  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "There  is  one 
thing  I  am  sure  he  knows!"  he  broke  out  pres' 
ently.  "He  knows  that  when  I  come  here,  it  is, 
with  all  respect  to  him,  with  all  respect  to  Mrs. 
Osmond,  who  is  so  charming — it  is  really,"  said 
the  young  man,  "to  see  you!" 

"To  see  me?"  asked  Pansy,  raising  her  vaguely 
troubled  eyes. 

"To  see  you;  that's  what  I  come  for,"  Rosier 
repeated,  feeling  the  intoxication  of  a  rupture 
with  authority.  Pansy  stood  looking  at  him, 
simply,  intently,  openly;  a  blush  was  not  needed 
to  make  her  face  more  modest. 

"I  thought  it  was  for  that,"  she  said. 

"And  it  was  not  disagreeable  to  you?" 

"I  couldn't  tell;  I  didn't  know;  you  never 
told  me,"  said  Pansy. 

&  169  3fc 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

"I  was  afraid  of  offending  you." 

"You  don't  offend  me,11  the  young  girl  mur' 
mured,  smiling  as  if  an  angel  had  kissed  her. 

"You  like  me  then,  Pansy?"  Rosier  asked  very 
gently,  feeling  very  happy. 

"Yes — I  like  you." 

They  had  walked  to  the  chimney'piece,  where 
the  big  cold  Empire  clock  was  perched;  they 
were  well  within  the  room  and  beyond  observa' 
tion  from  without.  The  tone  in  which  she  had 
said  these  four  words  seemed  to  him  the  very 
breath  of  nature,  and  his  only  answer  could  be 
to  take  her  hand  and  hold  it  a  moment.  Then 
he  raised  it  to  his  Hps.  Henry  James 

AN   ORIENTAL  REMEMBRANCE 

So  he  smoked  again. 

The  fragrant  fumes  of  his  pipe,  with  the  light 
of  the  lamp  playing  upon  them,  laid  a  shining 
ribbon  of  gold  from  his  heart  to  the  pavilion. 

His  feet  stepped  softly  upon  it.  He  reached 
the  pavilion,  and  entered. 

The  Plum  Blossom  was  sitting  erect  on  a  chair 
of  ebony  and  lacquer  encrusted  with  rose^quarts, 
and  the  sweep  of  his  heart's  desire  came  down 
upon  Yung  Han-Rai  like  a  gentle,  silvered 
miracle. 

"Hayah!  my  bridegroom!"  she  said,  rising, 
and  bowing  low. 

#  170  * 


MA7i  PROPOSES 

"Hayah!  my  bride P  he  replied,  and  kow 
towed  three  times. 

He  trembled  a  little.  In  his  blood  he  felt  puis* 
ing  the  whole  earth  with  her  myriad  expressions 
of  life  and  the  making  of  life,  as  if  dancing  to 
the  primal  rhythm  of  all  creation. 

He  looked  at  her. 

He  saw  her  very  clearly.  The  poppy  smoke 
had  faded  into  memory. 

Her  face  was  like  a  tiny  ivory  flower,  beneath 
the  great  wedding-crown  of  paper-thin  gold 
leaves,  with  emeralds  like  drops  of  frozen  green 
fire,  with  carved  balls  of  moonstone  swinging 
from  the  lobes  of  her  ears.  The  finger-nails  of  her 
right  hand  were  very  long,  and  encased  by 
pointed  filagrees  of  lapis  lazuli  studded  with  seed 
pearls. 

She  wore  a  long  gown,  that  was  like  a  current 
of  glossy  silver,  embroidered  with  trailing 
powder-blue  clouds  and  peach  blossoms,  and 
along  the  bottom  of  the  skirt,  a  golden  dragon 
in  whose  head  shimmered  the  seven  mystic 
jewels.  The  jacket,  with  its  loose  sleeves  of 
plum-colour  encircled  by  bands  of  coral  lotus 
buds,  was  tight  and  short,  of  apple-green  satin 
embroidered  with  sprays  of  yulan  magnolias  and 
guelder  roses,  looped  with  fretted  buttons  of 
white  jade;  while  her  slippers  were  of  porcelain, 
of  the  one  called  Ting-yao,  which  is  fifth  in  rank 
#  171  * 


THE  TH1HG  CALLED  LOVE 

among  all  perfect  porcelains,  thin  as  a  paper  of 
rice,  fragile  as  the  wings  of  the  silk-moth,  melo- 
dious as  the  stone  tying  when  gently  struck  by  a 
soft  hand,  violet  as  a  summer's  night  and  with 
an  over-glase  like  the  amber  bloom  of  grapes. 
Again  he  kowtowed. 

She  was  very  close  to  him.  Nothing  separated 
them  except  the  delicate  threshold  between 
dream  and  fact.  Beyond  that  threshold  there  was 
peace,  there  was  love,  there  was  the  eternal  thrill 
of  fulfilment,  there  was  an  end  of  those  yearn- 
ings,  of  the  loneliness  and  the  pains  of  actual  life 
that  had  bruised  his  soul  these  many  years. 

So  he  smoked  again.  He  enveloped  himself  in 
a  thick,  strongly  scented  poppy  cloud,  and  he 
stepped  a  little  beyond  the  threshold,  and  knelt 
at  her  feet. 

"I  love  you,  Plum  Blossom,"  he  said.  "I  love 
you,  O  very  small  Blossom  of  the  Plum  Tree!" — 
and  he  reached  for  the  \in,  the  Chinese  lute, 
which  was  at  her  elbow  on  a  pillow  of  yellow 
satin  embroidered  with  an  iridescent  rain  of 
pearls. 

His  fingers  caressed  the  instrument.  They 
brushed  over  the  cords. 

The  ancient  Tartar  melody  winged  up  in 
minor,  wailing  harmonies,  like  the  fluting  of 
long-limbed  rice  birds  flying  against  the  dead- 
gold  of  the  autumn  sky;  and  he  sang: 
*  172  % 


MAH  PROPOSES 

"I  love  you.  You  are  in  my  heart.  You  are  in 
my  soul.  You  are  in  the  soul  within  my  soul, 
where  the  world  has  not  been  spotted  by  dirt 
and  lies,  but  is  pure  as  the  laughter  of  little 
children;  where  there  are  no  fetters  of  the  flesh 
nor  galls  of  earthly  restraint;  where  the  winds 
roam  the  pathless  skies  of  outer  creation,  with 
none  but  the  Buddha's  will  to  check  their  vaga' 
bond  waywardness. 

Achmed  Abdullah 

"toilers  of  the  sea" 

Deruchette  joined  her  two  hands  in  a  sup' 
pliant  attitude,  and  looked  at  the  speaker,  silent, 
with  fixed  eyes,  and  trembling  from  head  to  foot. 

The  voice  continued: — 

"I  love  you.  God  made  not  the  heart  of  man 
to  be  silent.  He  has  promised  him  eternity  with 
the  intention  that  he  should  not  be  alone.  There 
is  for  me  but  one  woman  upon  earth.  It  is  you. 
I  think  of  you  as  of  a  prayer.  My  faith  is  in 
God  and  my  hope  in  you.  What  wings  I  have, 
you  bear.  You  are  my  life  and  already  my  SU' 
preme  happiness.11 

"Sir,"  said  Deruchette,  "there  is  no  one  to 
answer  in  the  house!11 

The  voice  rose  again: — 

"Yes,  I  have  encouraged  that  dream.  Heaven 
has  not  forbidden  us  to  dream.  You  are  like  a 

%  173  * 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

glory  in  my  eyes.  I  love  you  deeply,  mademoi- 
selle. To  me  you  are  holy  innocence.  I  know  it  is 
the  hour  at  which  your  household  has  retired  to 
rest,  but  I  had  no  choice  of  any  other  moment. 
...  I  speak  to  you,  mademoiselle,  without  ven* 
turing  to  approach  you;  I  would  step  even 
farther  back  if  it  was  your  wish  that  my  shadow 
should  not  touch  your  feet.  You  alone  are  su' 
preme.  You  will  come  to  me  if  such  is  your  will. 
I  love  and  wait. 

"I  did  not  know,  sir,"  stammered  Deruchette, 
"that  any  one  remarked  me  on  Sundays  and 
Thursdays.  ..." 

The  voice  continued: — 

"God  manifests  his  will  in  the  flowers,  in  the 
light  of  dawn,  in  the  spring;  and  love  is  of  His 
ordaining.  You  are  beautiful  in  this  holy  shadow 
of  night.  This  garden  has  been  tended  by  you; 
in  its  perfumes  there  is  something  of  your  breath. 
The  affinities  of  our  souls  do  not  depend  on  us. 
They  cannot  be  counted  with  our  sins.  You 
were  there,  that  was  all.  I  was  there,  that  was 
all.  I  did  nothing  but  feel  that  I  loved  you. 
Sometimes  my  eyes  rested  upon  you.  I  was 
wrong,  but  what  could  I  do?  It  was  through 
looking  at  you  that  all  happened.  .  .  .  To  have 
your  spirit  in  my  house — this  is  the  terrestrial 
paradise  for  which  I  hope.  Say,  will  you  be 
mine.  .  .  .  Oh,  be  my  betrothed;  will  you  not? 

*  174  # 


MAH  PROPOSES 

More  than  once  have  my  eyes,  in  spite  of  my 
self,  addressed  to  you  that  question.  I  love  you; 
answer  me.  .  .  ." 

Deruchette  hung  her  head,  and  murmured, 
"Oh!  I  worship  him.1' 

.  .  .  There  was  a  pause.  No  leaf  among  the 
trees  was  stirred.  ...  In  the  midst  of  that  retire' 
ment,  like  a  harmony  making  the  silence  more 
complete,  rose  the  wide  murmur  of  the  sea. 

The  voice  was  heard  again: — 

.  .  .  "You  are  silent." 

"What  would  you  have  me  say?" 

"I  wait  for  your  reply." 

"God  has  heard  it,"  said  Deruchette. 

Then  the  voice  became  almost  sonorous,  and 
at  the  same  time  softer  than  before,  and  these 
words  issued  from  the  leaves  as  from  a  burning' 
bush : — 

"You  are  my  betrothed.  Come  then  to  me. 
Let  the  blue  sky,  with  all  its  stars,  be  witness  of 
this  taking  of  my  soul  to  thine,  and  let  our  first 
embrace  be  mingled  with  that  firmament." 

Deruchette  arose  and  remained  an  instant 
motionless,  looking  straight  before  her,  doubtless 
into  another's  eyes.  Then,  with  slow  steps,  with 
head  erect,  her  arms  drooping,  but  with  the 
fingers  of  her  hands  wide  apart,  like  one  who 
leans  on  some  unseen  support,  she  advanced 
toward  the  trees,  and  was  out  of  sight. 

*  175  * 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 


A  moment  afterward,  instead  of  the  one 
shadow  upon  the  graveled  walk,  there  were  two. 
They  mingled  together. 

Victor  Hugo 

THE   BISHOP'S   EPISTOLARY  EFFORT 

"The  Palace,  Melchester,  June  28,  18 — 
"My  dear  Lady  Constantine: 

"During  the  two  or  three  weeks  that  have 
elapsed  since  I  experienced  the  great  pleasure  of 
renewing  my  acquaintance  with  you,  the  varied 
agitation  of  my  feelings  has  clearly  proved  that 
my  only  course  is  to  address  you  by  letter,  and 
at  once.  Whether  the  subject  of  my  communica- 
tion  be  acceptable  to  you  or  not,  I  can  at  least 
assure  you  that  to  suppress  it  would  be  far  less 
natural,  and  upon  the  whole  less  advisable,  than 
to  speak  out  frankly,  even  if  afterward  I  hold 
my  peace  forever. 

"The  great  change  in  my  experience  during 
the  past  year  or  two — the  change,  that  is,  which 
has  resulted  in  my  advancement  to  a  bishopric 
— has  frequently  suggested  to  me,  of  late,  that 
a  discontinuance  in  my  domestic  life  of  the  soli' 
tude  of  past  years  was  a  question  which  ought 
to  be  seriously  contemplated.  But  whether  I 
should  ever  have  contemplated  it  without  the 
great  good  fortune  of  my  meeting  with  you  is 
doubtful.  However,  the  thing  has  been  consid' 
$  176  $ 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


MAN  PROPOSES 

ered  at  last,  and  without  more  ado  I  candidly  ask 
if  you  would  be  willing  to  give  up  your  life  at 
Welland,  and  relieve  my  household  loneliness 
here  by  becoming  my  wife. 

"I  am  far  from  desiring  to  force  a  hurried  de- 
cision on  your  part,  and  will  wait  your  good 
pleasure  patiently,  should  you  feel  any  uncer- 
tainty  at  the  moment  as  to  the  step.  I  am  quite 
disqualified  by  habit  and  experience,  for  the 
delightful  procedure  of  urging  my  suit  in  the 
ardent  terms  which  would  be  so  appropriate 
toward  such  a  lady,  and  so  expressive  of  my 
inmost  feeling.  In  truth,  a  prosy  cleric  of  five' 
and  forty  wants  encouragement  to  make  him 
eloquent.  Of  this,  however,  I  can  assure  you: 
that  if  admiration,  esteem,  and  devotion  can 
compensate  in  any  way  for  the  lack  of  those 
qualities  which  might  be  found  to  burn  with 
much  outward  brightness  in  a  younger  man, 
those  it  is  my  power  to  bestow  for  the  term  of 
my  earthly  life.  Your  steady  adherence  to  church 
principles  and  your  interest  in  ecclesiastical 
polity  (as  was  shown  by  your  bright  questioning 
on  those  subjects  during  our  morning  walk 
round  your  grounds)  have  indicated  strongly  to 
me  the  grace  and  appropriateness  with  which 
you  would  fill  the  position  of  a  bishop's  wife, 
and  how  greatly  you  would  add  to  his  reputation 
should  you  be  disposed  to  honour  him  with 
*  177  % 


THE  THIHG  CALLED  LOVE 

your  hand.  Formerly  there  have  been  times  when 
I  was  of  opinion — and  you  will  rightly  appre' 
date  my  candour  in  owning  it — that  a  wife  was 
an  impediment  to  a  bishop's  due  activities;  but 
constant  observation  has  convinced  me  that,  far 
from  this  being  the  truth,  a  meet  consort  infuses 
life  into  episcopal  influence  and  teaching. 

"Should  you  reply  in  the  affirmative  I  will  at 
once  come  to  see  you,  and  with  your  permission 
will,  among  other  things,  show  you  a  few  plain, 
practical  rules  which  I  have  interested  myself 
in  drawing  up  for  our  future  guidance.  Should 
you  refuse  to  change  your  condition,  on  my 
account,  your  decision  will,  as  I  need  hardly  say, 
be  a  great  blow  to  me.  In  any  event,  I  could  not 
do  less  than  I  have  done,  after  giving  the  subject 
my  full  consideration.  Even  if  there  be  a  slight 
deficiency  of  warmth  on  your  part,  my  earnest 
hope  is  that  a  mind  comprehensive  as  yours  will 
perceive  the  immense  power  for  good  that  you 
might  exercise  in  the  position  in  which  a  union 
with  me  would  place  you,  and  allow  that  per' 
ception  to  weigh  with  you  in  determining  your 
answer. 

"I  remain,  my  dear  Lady  Constantine,  with 
the  highest  respect  and  devotion, 

"Yours  always,  C.  Melchester." 

Thomas  Hardy 

THE  END 

#  178  ^ 

r/t- 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


SEP 


%HDNVS0#    ^/iiUAINIW^     ^AWarfj^  ^ 


%a3MNa-3V^ 


L  006  177  183  8  I 

tvsrri 


^tOSANCtlff^  ^FCAllFOS^ 


^tUBRARYOc 


ml 


>^£UNIVERJ/a. 


^OF-CAIIFO^ 


